The Queen's Commitment and Joseph's Secret
by Faithful Magewhisper
Summary: Every person has a past. What happens if two merge their lives together and try to create a future? Both Clarisse and Joseph fight the demons of the past. But they are not alone. Disclaimer: I don't own the characters!
1. Am I Too Late?

A./N.: Hi everyone! This is my first PD fanfic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it. Please leave plenti of reviews.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Disney.

_**The Queen's**__** Commitments and Joseph's Secret**_

1. Am I Too Late?

Clarisse eyes widened at what Mia was suggesting. She blinked once and tried to calm her thoughts, which were raging at impossible speed through her mind. Both happy visions of an unsure future and painful memories of the past engulfed her for a moment. What Mia offered seemed impossible, miles away, but a small bubble of hope began to form in her chest, lifting her heart.

"Did you hear that?" she asked Charlotte tentatively, to stall for time.

For a moment Charlotte seemed unsure what to answer. Instead she directed her gaze straight ahead and formulated a diplomatic none-answer.

"Not if you didn't want me to", mumbled Charlotte, causing Clarisse to laugh nervously.

"Oh, Charlotte."

There was deep affection for the younger woman in her voice and she smiled at her. She handed her aide the earpiece back and fiddled with the coat of her dress. It was a nervous tick of her, the only she allowed herself to exhibit in public. She stepped slightly forward as Charlotte stepped back, giving her Queen as much privacy as was possible at the moment. Again Clarisse straightened her coat and called out her love's name.

"Joseph."

There he was. The most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. The man who held her heart in his hands almost from the first moment they had set eyes on each other 35 years ago. The man who had saved her life numerous times and pieced it back together.

"Your Majesty?" he inquired, cold and distant.

Ever since she had turned him down, yet again, he had created a barrier between them and guarded his heart with the same fierceness with which he had previously guarded his Queen's life.

A lifetime of old-fashioned education battled with her heart. A woman did NOT ask a man to marry her. She waited demurely until she was asked but Clarisse realised with a jolt that Joseph HAD in fact asked her. All she had to do now was accept what he had offered ... if he still ... she just had to try to win him back!

"Dear Joseph", she spoke softly, feeling a weight being lifted off her shoulders.

Her smile was tender and loving and completely threw Joseph off guard. What was she playing at? His head cocked to the side and he quirked an eyebrow at her. Clarisse wasn't usually this insecure and evasive. Normally she always spoke clearly what upset or bothered her ... at least with him. He waited, not so patiently, for her to continue.

Clarisse was more nervous than ever before in her life, even before her wedding to Rupert. It seemed that so much more was at stake than before. Her life as Clarisse was. Once brought in contact with love, desire and dreams of a happy future with the man she loved, Clarisse was unwilling and unable to transform back into cold, collected and distant Queen Clarisse. Gathering her courage around her like a cloak, she swallowed and spoke the question burning a hole into her heart.

"Am I too late to ask you to accept my hand in marriage?"

It cost her more than she was willing to admit to herself. Suddenly she was an awkward teenager again, afraid of being rejected and humiliated.

Joseph coughed convulsively and looked overwhelmed. A thought crossed his mind; he would never be bored with Clarisse by his side. Never taking his eyes off her, he made a decision to change his life for life without her wasn't worth living and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing this woman how much he loved her. He smiled still a little unsure if he had really understood correctly but played over his own nervousness with a joke.

"Well, I thought you'd never ask", he said at last, causing Clarisse to heave a sigh of relief. Then he turned to his second-in-command. "Shades, you're in charge now. Good luck with Lionel ... I'm going to a wedding."

He was eager to finally claim Clarisse as his wife while Clarisse herself stood somewhat shyly next to him and waited for his move.

Her doubts had been beaten down only momentarily. All of a sudden they came crushing back down on her. Doubts about what her people might say to all this. Doubts if she really had the makings to be Joseph's wife. Well, to be a wife again, period. She had grown rather accustomed to being in charge of her life. Doubts if she was enough for him. Her heart rate sped up and she became more nervous by each second that passed.

Joseph handed Shades his top hat and fumbled his earpiece off, tossing it carelessly into the hat. Then he turned back around to Clarisse and extended his hand for her to grab on.

Charlotte handed her Queen the bouquet of flowers Mia had handed her ... it seemed like hours ago. So much had happened in the meantime and at such great speed. Charlotte felt more than overwhelmed but also exhilarated on behalf of the woman she so admired. Clarisse deserved all the happiness in the world. Clarisse's hands shook a little as she took the flowers from her and smiled nervously at her aide. Charlotte saw in her eyes that her thoughts were reeling and terrifying her to no end. She smiled encouragingly at the older woman. That was the only fault in Clarisse; she tended to overthink everything.

Clarisse extended her own hand and put it gently on Joseph's before smiling nervously at him. He seemed to feel her anxiety for he took her hand and slid it through the crook of his arm. Then he smiled at her with all the love he felt for her in his eyes and started the slow walk down the aisle.

With each step Clarisse felt the doubts fall away again and she straightened her spine. Suddenly she became aware of the murmur and talk all around her in the church. Surely her people felt as overwhelmed as she did. In the attempt to lighten the mood and strengthen her own resolve, she tried to joke.

"I know it was short notice ... but you were all dressed."

The church erupted with giggles and quaffs and even Joseph chuckled. He was well aware of his bride's nerves. Gently he squeezed her hand a little and saw an answering smile spread over her face. She was now radiating happiness.

Finally they reached the altar with Joseph fretting every step if Clarisse might change her mind again and bolt. Clarisse on the other hand had made her decision and had never been one to back out at the last moment. She had chosen Joseph and would now see it through to the end ... A terrifying thought hit her and for a moment she stumbled.

Joseph immediately caught her by tensing the muscles in his arm and imperceptibly heaving her weight. From the onlookers' point of view it seemed as if Clarisse had only leaned in closer to her love. But Joseph felt the slight tremble throughout her body. He softly brushed against her, trying to wake her and drag her out of her thoughts. She smiled at him in response but only barely.

Clarisse's mind was in turmoil. Suddenly she didn't feel like the giddy bride with normal worries about her future but more and more like she had felt at her wedding to Rupert. She felt yet again like the sacrificial lamb, repeating the same words she had used so many years ago. "I will see it through to the end", she had convinced herself with fake bravado. It had been such a hollow statement, such naive nonsense and a stupid mistake. Was she about to do the same mistake again?

Joseph stood in front of the Archbishop and watched his wife handing Mia the flowers. She was beautiful and graceful and elegant. He had known the moment he had set eyes on her that there would be no other woman in his life. Always he had been attracted to her physically but slowly he had realized that the attraction was but a tiny part of what drew him to Clarisse. She was also quick-witted and intelligent, charming and warm, caring and open-minded. And then had come the day when he couldn't lie to himself anymore and had to admit that he had fallen head over heels in love with his Queen. His eyes now glistened with his love for her and the joy to finally being able to show it in public.

When Clarisse turned back towards Joseph she immediately noticed his eyes resting on her face. Hesitantly she raised her own eyes to meet his and was seared to the bones by the look of unadulterated love in them. No, it was no mistake to marry him! Joseph was the complete opposite of Rupert in every way. With him she could finally find happiness and real love.

"My Lord Archbishop, I would like to take this man as my husband if you please", she said serenely, again in control had with the Queen facade firmly in place.

The Archbishop raised his eyes heavenwards and sighed deeply.

"Finally!" he exclaimed softly, smiling indulgently down on Clarisse and Joseph.

Not for the first time this day, Clarisse felt her facade slip and she stared at her Archbishop and friend with wide eyes. Her smile vanished instantly and she chanced a peek at Joseph in astonishment. They had thought nobody had noticed a thing. Joseph, though, smiled at the Archbishop and squeezed Clarisse hand.

"We have come together for a different wedding", intoned the Archbishop without giving neither Clarisse nor Joseph the chance to reply. He was smiling softly and lovingly at his Queen. She deserved happiness more than anybody else he knew and he was ecstatic to bind her to the man who could provide such happiness for her.

Both Clarisse and Joseph didn't really pay attention to the words spoken until Sebastian Motaz nudged Joseph softly. It was time for him to make his vows.

"With this ring I thee ... finally", Joseph glanced cheekily at the Archbishop, "... wed."

He swore solemnly, meaning every word from the bottom of his heart. Nothing would ever change his love for this wonderful woman. Clarisse was overjoyed and couldn't contain her smiles or the moisture coming into her eyes.

"I pronounce you man and wife", said the Archbishop, drawing a faint gasp from Clarisse. "You may kiss the bride", he said at last.

Joseph, still holding both of Clarisse's hands in his, smiled lovingly at his blushing bride. For a moment it seemed Clarisse was overwhelmed and a bit scared. He wasn't quite sure what she could be afraid of. A kiss in a church packed with people was certainly not a big step ... even though Joe had to fight for control just standing next to her. Yes, he definitely desired this woman and her body. Finally he was in a position to live his fantasies. And then he was presented with a picture of the past.

----

_He stood outside the Queen's suit at night as was his duty. Her Majesty had retired early seeing as her husband had settled down for a long night filled with alcohol, card games and crude men talk. Suddenly around 2 am Joe heard the soft clicking sound of a door's lock opening and closing again. Since the palace was silent every sound, even the tiniest, was amplified. Joe was enabled to hear every word spoken inside the suite._

_"How much have you lost?" asked the queen._

_The king only grunted and Joe heard the noises of someone taking off clothes._

_"You better go to your own suite, Rupert. I am not in the mo..."_

_"Shut up", snarled the king and Joe heard the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh. "You are my wife and will do as I say."_

_Joe had to spend the next hour__ clutching his hands into tight fists and staring straight ahead with anger and murder in his eyes while he was forced to listen to Clarisse's whimpers of pain and humiliation and the king's grunts._

----

Now his thumbs were softly stroking Clarisse's wrists as he reassured her with his eyes that he would never hurt her. Her eyes were still uncertain but suddenly a slight jerk went through her body and she swayed towards him. Clarisse trusted Joseph with her life, had done so for decades now, and she knew his love was pure and his soul gentle, despite the harshness of his profession. Over the years there had been many situations where he could have taken advantage of her vulnerability but he had never done so. And it was only a little ol' kiss.

Joseph jubilated on the inside. She had made the first move and given him permission to kiss her. Leaning forward, he met Clarisse in a gentle, quick peck. The moment their lips met, it was as if the world shrank and grinded to a halt. An electric spark had ignited between them and Joseph, yet again and not for the last time, found himself battling down his hormones. Clarisse's dilated eyes but soft smile told him more than words that she had felt it too.

Then Mia's whoop broke through to them and catapulted them back to earth. It was time to face the music.

----

In the horse-drawn carriage Clarisse took a seat, reeling with the realization of exactly what she had done. She had married Joseph! She had really married Joseph! The impact on her was almost unbearable. What would her people think of her now? What would the staff at the palace think? ...

Her thoughts stopped there as Joseph settled down beside her. He was shy and uncomfortable. Normally he would take his place standing behind his queen and now it almost felt as if he was deserting his post.

Shyly both newly-weds smiled at each. It would take them some time to get used to the new situation. Joseph took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it, and Clarisse smiled more radiantly at him, extending her other hand to cup his cheek for a moment.

Cheering from the crowd around them effectively put an end to the exchange of tenderness. Squaring her shoulders and heaving a sigh, Clarisse bowed to the inevitable and graciously waved to her subjects. Joseph next to her waved too, albeit a bit shyly. Clarisse bit her lip to keep from laughing and whispered instead:

"Remember Mia's lessons."

Joseph grinned now and tried to imitate Clarisse's movement, ending up in more of a mockery so he gave up and just tipped his forehead in a quick salute. He had seen Kings and Prince Consorts do that. The approving nod from his bride told him that he had mastered the first hurdle as the man at the Queen's side.


	2. Wedding Night Blues

2. Wedding Night Blues

Soon the carriage drove through the big gates of the palace grounds and the newlyweds could take a deep breath. Clarisse looked out over the grassy plains suddenly not knowing what to say to the man to whom she had poured out her heart on countless times in the past.

Joseph was also overwhelmed. Not for the first time she had totally run him over with her actions. For Pete's sake, he was a tough and rough guy from the military who had then decided to serve his country by protecting the Queen. Years of being used to stay in the background, silently guarding the woman he loved most, battled with the overwhelming joy of finally being able to express this love in public. He had loved her for over 30 years now and Joseph had come statically closer to Clarisse but never so close as to consummate their love.

Clarisse was acutely aware of the man by her side. Her body brimmed with desire for him but she was also a little afraid about being intimate with him. It hadn't been a possibility while Rupert had still been alive. She had meant her wedding vows ... even as Rupert had not. And then she had been a respectable widow in mourning. After her visit to San Francisco and meeting Mia, Clarisse had become a lot more expressive about her feelings towards others, especially towards Joseph. They had even started kissing and snuggling. Both Joseph and Clarisse had decided to keep their friendship and budding romance in the shadows for the sake of the Crown and Clarisse's reputation. She knew in her heart that Joseph would never do anything to compromise her.

Both newlyweds couldn't wait to be alone. They felt the heat rising from one another. Where their thighs touched and their shoulders bumped together they felt a tingling starting and quickly spreading throughout their bodies. Every now and then Joseph shot his Clarisse a heated glance full of desire. Finally he would be able to make love to her. Finally he could show her the true meaning of making love. Finally he could sweep her off her feet. And finally he would have the chance to make her forget duty and her country to become Clarisse, a breath-taking, vivacious, lovely, warm, sexy and absolutely gorgeous woman!

Joseph had to stop his thoughts there and swallow hard or he would have ravished his bride on the spot.

Clarisse was again seared to her core with one of Joseph's burning glances. She knew that he desired her ... like quite a few others despite the fact that she wasn't young anymore ... But it was also a bit daunting. She was in her late 60ies, she had given birth to two children, she didn't possess a wasp waist anymore ... and she hadn't been intimate with a man in a very long time ...

Her thoughts were cut short as the carriage came to a halt and the door was opened for Joseph to disembark. He did so quickly and then, always the perfect gentleman and considerate of her feeling, he held out his hand for her. Helping her out of the carriage, always provided Joseph with an excuse to touch her ... and that was when it hit him. He was now legally and in front of witnesses married to her. Never again would he need an excuse for touching her. Joseph couldn't help himself and grinned boyishly at Clarisse who giggled upon seeing his joyful glee. Yes, he would never hurt her in the way Rupert had done ... he loved her too much to do that. He was hers ... now and forever.

Suddenly Charlotte was dragged over by an enthusiastic Mia. The princess had quickly changed out of her wedding dress and was now clothed in a wonderful lilac ensemble and a tiara. She beamed at her grandmother and Joseph.

"So, Joe, you finally made an honest woman of my grandmother, that's so cool", squealed Mia, half-deafening Clarisse and Joseph, before flinging herself on both. Hugging the stuffing out of her grandmother, she whispered for her alone to hear, "Sorry, Grandma, but you and Joe have to make a quick appearance in the ball room. My reception is now in your honour and everybody is waiting to congratulate you. But then, I swear, you two are off the hook and can go to ... well, you know ... hmmmmm ... enjoy yourselves."

"Amelia!" screeched Clarisse, horrified by Mia's forwardness.

----

The reception was beautifully organised by Charlotte (of course) but Clarisse felt her thoughts slip away more and more often. Joseph was dragged from her side by Sebastian Motaz almost immediately to meet all the parliamentarians. Sebastian had conveniently forgotten that Joseph had met all those men already ... not as Clarisse's husband but as her bodyguard who probably knew more about them than the Prime Minister. And Clarisse had the sinking feeling that Sebastian had another purpose for dragging Joseph off.

Clarisse on the other hand was suddenly hustled by the aristocratic wives about her relationship with her Head of Security ... but more importantly the question how she had managed to keep it a secret. The Queen had been listening to her maids running the rumour mill. Eaves-dropping secretly, she had found out that most noblewomen her own age and also stuck in arranged marriages had indulged in affairs with their gardeners or the business partners of their husbands.

She was disgusted. How could they think she had had a physical affair with Joseph? After all they knew her for the majority of her life and had been raised in the same values as she had. Clarisse was a lady.

----

Finally the evening had ended and Clarisse stood in her suite by the window, overlooking her beloved garden while Joseph was in the bathroom. She had been amused to see him surrounded by all those parliamentarians and other high-class men who all wanted to toast him on his luck to land Clarisse. But he had looked sourly at all of them and Clarisse had had a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach. Only really serious things could upset Joseph, and then only when he was battered constantly. Of course it would have been rude to decline the proffered drinks and now Joseph was rather the worst for wear. Upon reaching Clarisse's, and now his, suite, he had staggered into the bathroom to freshen up. For a moment Clarisse pressed her ear to the door in case he needed her assistance or first aide but she could only hear the sounds of running water and splashing.

Reassured she slowly walked to the large windows overlooking her gardens. So Joseph had just faked to be drunk to avoid more offers and get them out of the ball room. Chuckling softly to herself, she suddenly realised that not that much had changed since she had said "I do". But surely soon a lot would change ... especially in her relationship with Joseph.

Clarisse was too engrossed in her recollections that she didn't hear the bathroom door opening and then closing again. Without warning she was suddenly entrapped in two strong arms and pressed to a male chest. With a startled gasp she twisted out of Joseph's arms.

"Joseph, you scared me!" she squealed out surprised beyond words by her husband.

"Do you want me to go?" asked Joseph softly.

He had noticed from the beginning that Clarisse seemed to regret the impromptu wedding and that she was hesitant to be with him intimately.

"No! Of course not! You ... You just surprised me."

"I'm sorry. Clarisse, we don't have to ... you know ... consummate our marriage tonight. Do you want to wait?" he asked softly.

Clarisse looked startled but only momentarily, then a broad smile split her face in two. Her eyes were cast downward and her cheeks showed clearly two flags of red but she stepped slowly closer to him. She was, in Joseph's eyes the most alluring woman he had ever meant and he faintly asked himself if Clarisse was aware of the lovely picture she painted like that.

"I accepted your hand in marriage. You are always so understanding but I was married before and ...", she said sincerely, stammering slightly from nervousness, "... and consummating the marriage is expected in the wedding night."

"I love you and I won't force you to do anything you're not ready. I will never disregard your feelings and wishes, Clarisse. I love you too much for that."

Joseph held his bride close to him and reassured her softly. Clarisse broke down crying. She had known Joseph loved her very much but this was so much more than she deserved. Joseph watched his wife sobbing her heart and soul out and picked her up swiftly. He carried her to their bed and sat down with her on his lap. After a while Clarisse calmed down enough to wipe away the tears and smile shakily at her love.

"Do you want me to go?" asked Joseph quietly again.

The blood was pounding thickly in Clarisse's ears.

"No!" she swung quickly toward him and gripped his shoulders tightly, making him pull back involuntarily. "No", she said, more quietly. "I don't want you to go. I told you so, and I meant it."

Joseph bent his head toward her, his face alive with troubled questions.

"Will you ..." He stopped, the flush deepening on his features, but met her eyes, swallowed once and went on. "Will you come to bed with me, then? I mean", he hurried on, "it cooled down quite a bit and we are both tired and ..."

"And the chairs are terribly uncomfortable for you to camp out on", Clarisse finished for him. "Alright." She pulled her hand loose from his, stood up and turned her back to her husband, feeling a queer mix of excitement and hesitance that made her breath come short.

Joseph pulled off his trousers and stockings quickly, then glanced at her.

"I'm sorry, darling. I should have thought you would need help with your dress."

"Thank you", she murmured, "if you'd give me a hand in the back there ..."

The zipper teeth parted with a muted ripping noise and the dress sagged free. Clarisse pulled her arms out of the sleeves and let the dress drop heavily around her feet, turning to face Joseph before she lost her nerve.

He jerked back, startled by this sudden chrysalis-shedding. Then he blinked and stared at her.

Clarisse stood in front of him in nothing but her shoes, stockings and underwear. She had an overwhelming urge to snatch the dress back up, but she resisted it. She stiffened her spine, raised her chin, and waited.

He didn't say a word. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight as he moved his head slightly, but he still didn't say a word.

"Will you please say something?" Clarisse demanded at last, in a voice that shook only a little.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He shook his head slowly from side to side.

"Dios mio", he whispered at last. "Clarisse ... you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"You", she said with conviction, "are losing your eyesight. At your age it's probably cataracts."

He laughed at that, a little unsteadily, and then Clarisse saw that he was in fact blinded. His eyes shone with moisture, even as he smiled. He blinked hard and held out his hand.

"I", he said, with equal conviction, "have got eyes like a hawk and always did. Come here to me."

A little reluctantly, Clarisse took his hand and stepped out of the inadequate shelter of the heap of her dress. Joseph drew her gently in, to stand between his knees as he sat back. Then he kissed her softly, once on each breast, and laid his head between them, his breath coming warm on her ivory skin and scars.

"Your breast is like ivory", he said softly. His hand rose to cup one breast, his fingers tanned into darkness against her own pale glow. "I couldn't look at you, my Queen, and keep my hands from you, nor have you near me and not want you." He lifted his head then, and planted a kiss over her heart, then let his hand float down the gentle curve of her belly, lightly tracing the small marks left there by the births of Pierre and Phillippe.

"You ... really don't mind?" she said hesitantly, brushing her own fingers over the scars on her chest.

Joseph smiled up at her with something half-rueful in his expression. He hesitated for a moment, then drew his wife closer. He reached to touch her chest, his eyes holding hers.

"You bear the scars of your battles, corazón", he said softly, "they don't trouble me. I have my own scars ... and if they don't bother you then ... no, I don't mind. You are beautiful."

Joseph lifted his wife to the bed beside him then leaned over to kiss her. Clarisse kicked off her shoes and curled her legs up, feeling the warmth of Joseph through his shirt. Her palms found the button at the throat, fumbling to open it.

"I want to see you."

"Well, it's not much to see, darling", he said, with an uncertain laugh. "But whatever it is, it's yours ... if you want it."

He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, then leaned back on the palms of his hands, displaying his body.

Clarisse didn't know quite what she had been expecting. In fact, the side of his naked torso took her breath away. He was still tall and beautifully made. He glowed in the candlelight, as though the light came from within him.

Her eyes met his and his mouth quirked suddenly. Clarisse reached toward him, hesitant, and he took her hand. The strength and warmth of it were startling and she jerked slightly. Then she tightened her grasp and he rose to his feet, facing her.

They stood still then, awkwardly hesitating. They were intensely aware of each other ... how could they not be? Clarisse had a feeling of empty-bellied terror.

"Are you as scared as I am?" she finally said, sounding hoarse to her own ears.

Joseph looked her over carefully and raised one eyebrow.

"I doubt it", he said. "You're covered with gooseflesh. Are you scared, darling, or only cold?"

"Both", Clarisse said and Joseph laughed.

"Get in, then", he said. He released her hand and bent to turn back the quilt.

Clarisse didn't stop shaking when he slid under the quilt beside her, though the heat of his body was a physical shock.

"Do you want me now?" she whispered.

Joseph didn't answer, but moved abruptly, so Clarisse felt the hardness of him stiff against her belly.

It was terror as much as desire that pressed her close against him. Clarisse wanted him, all right. Her breasts ached and her belly was tight with it, the almost forgotten rush of arousal slippery between her legs, opening her for him. But as strong as lust was the desire simply to be taken, to have him master her, quell her doubts in a moment of rough usage, take her hard and swiftly enough to make her forget herself.

Clarisse could feel the urge to do it tremble in the hands that cupped her buttocks, in the involuntary jerk of his hips, brought up short as she stopped himself.

Do it, she thought, in an agony of apprehension. For God's sake, do it now and don't be gentle!

She couldn't say it. She saw the need of it on his face but he couldn't say it, either. It was both too soon and too late for such words between them.

But there was another language and her body still recalled it. Clarisse pressed her hips against him sharply, grasping his, the curves of his buttocks clenched hard under her hands. She turned her face upward, urgent to be kissed, at the same moment that he bent abruptly to kiss her. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, searing her to the core.

She realized with a sudden jolt that he was lying on her, her legs sprawled wide beneath him, his cock just touching her, nor more than a hairs-breadth from the moment of decision.

Clarisse saw the realization dawn in his eyes as well. Neither of them moved, barely breathing. Then his chest swelled as he took a deep breath, reached and took both her wrists in one hand. He pulled them up, over her head, and held her there, her body arched taut and helpless under him.

"Give me your mouth, Clarisse", he said softly and bent to her. His head blotted out the candlelight and Clarisse saw nothing but a dim glow and the darkness of his flesh as his mouth touched hers. Gently, brushing, then pressing, warm, and she opened to him with a little gasp, his tongue seeking hers. She bit his lip and he drew back a little, startled.

"Joseph", she said against his lips, her own breath one between them. "Joseph!" That was all she could say, but her hips jerked against him and jerked again, urging violence. She turned her head and fastened her teeth in the flesh of his shoulder.

Joseph made a small sound deep in his throat and came into her hard. She was tight as any virgin and cried out, arching under him.

"Don't stop!" her body begged him. "For God's sake, don't stop!"

Joseph's body heard her and answered in the same language, his grasp of her wrists tightening as he plunged hard into her, the force of it reaching her womb with each stroke.

Then he let go of her wrists and half fell on her, the weight of him pinning her to the bed as he reached under, holding her hips hard, keeping her immobile.

Clarisse whimpered and writhed against him and he bit her neck.

"Be still", he said in her ear. She was still, only because she couldn't move. They lay pressed tight together, shuddering. She could feel the pounding against her ribs, but didn't know whether it was her heart, or his.

Then he moved in her, very slightly, a question of the flesh. It was enough. Clarisse convulsed in answer, held helpless under him, and felt the spasms of her release stroke him, seize and release him, urging him to join her.

Joseph reared up on both hands, back arched and head thrown back, eyes closed and breathing hard. Then very slowly, he bent his head forward and opened his eyes. He looked down at her with unutterable tenderness and the candlelight gleamed briefly on the wetness on his cheeks, maybe sweat or maybe tears.

"Oh, Clarisse", he whispered. "Oh, God, Clarisse."

And his release began, deep inside her, without his moving, shivering through his body so that his arms trembled, and he dropped his head with a sound like a sob as he spilled himself, each jerk and pulse of his flesh between her legs rousing an echo in her own.

When it was over, he held himself over her, still as stone for a long moment. Then, very gently, he lowered himself, pressed his head against hers, and lay very still.


	3. Revelations in the Bridal Suite

**3. Revelations in the Bridal Suite**

Clarisse stirred at last from a deep, contented sleep, lifting her hand to lay it over the spot where Joseph's pulse beat slow and strong, just at the base of his breastbone.

"It's like bicycle riding, I expect", she said. "I just mean that I seemed to recall what to do all right. And you ..."

Her head rested peacefully in the curve of his shoulder, her hand idly playing with the sparse hairs on his chest. Joseph opened one eye and looked down at Clarisse consideringly.

"It would take a complete idiot to forget _that_, corazón", he said. "I may be lacking practice, but I haven't lost all my faculties yet."

They were still for a long time, aware of each other's breathing, sensitive to each small twitch and shifting of position. They fitted well together, her head curled into the hollow of his shoulder, his body warm under her hand. Softly his hand traced the outline of his wife's hips, leisurely exploring her body.

"Tell me about King Rupert", said Joseph as softly as the caress of his hand some time later.

Clarisse jerked instantly and roughly disentangled herself from Joseph. She was just about to climb out the bed when Joseph's arms wrapped around her waist and gently drew her back.

"Let go off me, Joseph!" Clarisse hissed and swatted his hands away. "Why did you have to bring up Rupert now of all times?"

Joseph was not fazed by her acidy voice. He knew her temper and had been on the receiving end before but now he realised he had really angered her. Her eyes sparked an icy blue and her lips had nearly disappeared in a thin line of disapproval.

"Well, I knew you must be thinking of him. You could hardly not, under the circumstances. I don't want you ever to feel as though you can't talk of him to me. Even though I'm your husband now – that feels wonderful to say – it wouldn't be right to ask you to forget ..."

"I want to forget him, Joseph!!! I try so hard to forget him but he comes out of the shadow when I least expect him", Clarisse all but wailed. "And here you are after we made love and ask me about him. Why NOW?"

Red flags adorned her cheeks and her hands gripped the blanket tightly to her bosom. Her voice trembled and Joseph turned her gently around to face him again before he stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs. Softly he took them into his and raised her hands and kissed each one formally. Clarisse cleared her throat.

"Please let us change the subject."

"Well, I have to know if you made love to me or thought I was Rupert", explained Joseph, putting his own hands up to prevent her from interrupting him. "You see, I had had it all planned out, our first time together. I wanted to be as gentle as I know how and show you the real meaning of making love ... but, Clarisse, you ... and I was also so nervous and thought ... Do you like this?"

Clarisse turned her head away with a shameful blush on her cheeks. She hadn't known what had possessed her to act that way, not that the decision had been made consciously, nor could she really explain to herself why she had felt the need to be taken.

"No! Joseph, I ... I can't ..." started Clarisse insecurely, not looking into Joseph's understanding, brown orbs for it would surely dissolve her into tears.

"Please, cholita, try it for our sake", pleaded Joseph, putting one finger under her chin and lifting her face, gently forcing her to look into his eyes. "There shouldn't be any secrets between us. Before you tell me, here's the one thing I'd ask of you", he said slowly.

"What's that?"

"Honesty."

Clarisse flinched uncomfortably, for Joseph leaned forward earnestly, hands on his knees.

"I know there are things you will not wish to tell me, Clarisse. Perhaps things that hurt you still."

'You don't know just how right you are', Clarisse thought glumly.

"I'll not press you, ever, or insist on knowing things that are your own concern", he said seriously. He looked down at his hands, now pressed together, palm to palm.

"There are things that _I_ can't tell _you_, at least not yet. And I'll ask nothing of you that you can't give me. But what I would ask of you – when you _do_ tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise you the same. We have love and mutual respect between us. I think that love and respect have maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do you agree?"

He spread his hands out, palms up, inviting her. Clarisse placed her own hands lightly on his palms.

"Yes, I agree. I'll give you honesty."

His fingers closed lightly about hers, never applying pressure on. It was her decision how much she wanted to reveal of herself just now. Clarisse yearned for complete honesty between them and no secrets. She yearned to finally having a _real _marriage in every sense of the word.

"I _am _just the slightest bit nervous", she admitted almost inaudibly before adding hastily, "and I am not sure if I can really explain it."

Joseph stood up and went to the table near the window. Clarisse's maids had placed a wonderful bouquet on this table earlier that day. Behind this stood two wineglasses and a bottle of a rich Bordeaux red wine. Joseph poured out the glasses and came back to the bed, handing his wife a glass as he resumed his seat against the headboard. He studied his wineglass with some care, thinking about his next move.

"Perhaps it would be easier to talk for you if you didn't have to face me", he suggested quietly.

Reaching his arm out, he wrapped it around Clarisse's shoulders and cautiously drew her close so that she sat beside him with her head pillowed against his chest. Carefully she raised her glass and clicked it against his before raising it to her lips and tilting her head back to savour the rich bouquet of the wine. The wine and the soft caress of his hand on her neck helped Clarisse to relax and gather her thoughts. And he had been right about her thinking of Rupert.

"I think you were absolutely right. I was indeed thinking of Rupert earlier tonight ... it is amazing how you can read my thoughts", she started to say and paused to sip on her wine again.

"Well, I assumed. As Siegfried Freud already said, our beds are crowded. We all have our pasts and they are part of who we are now."

Clarisse nodded solemnly and took another sip of wine. She was not entirely sure if she wanted Rupert in her marriage bed with Joseph ... she hadn't even wanted him in her marriage bed when they had been married.

"I am well aware that you, as my personnel bodyguard, must have witnessed ... some ..."

"Yes, I witnessed", growled Joe and subconsciously drew Clarisse protectively closer to his chest. He would protect her from now on and hope it would somehow make up for the times he hadn't been able to.

Clarisse swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment. She had expected him to have witnessed something but to have him confirm it was worse than she had expected it to be. Somehow she had thought that sharing some of the bad memories with someone, especially someone as close to her as Joseph, would ease the hurt but now she found that it only made it worse. Her cheeks flamed again with shame and her heart skipped a few beats.

"Rupert exploited his physical power to dominate me", Clarisse's voice was strangely devoid of emotions and her eyes gazed unseeingly into the distance. It was far easier for her to talk about matters of the heart when she retreated into a far corner of her soul, peeking out into the world from the shelter of her professional barriers. "Perhaps I somehow thought that if you ... dominated me, you would bind me to you. That you could make me yours body and soul ... and finally free me of Rupert and those memories."

Her last words were a faint whisper and Joe had to lean forward to catch them. His arms contracted around her and his lips brushed against her hair. Clarisse wondered if his lips disturbed a single hair in her head, that gentle was his kiss. She leaned into him and relaxed finally.

"I love you, Clarisse. And I thank you for trusting me", he whispered lovingly.

Sipping their wine, they shared a blissful silence for a time, both feeling a bit shy after the frankness of that last exchange. Clarisse tilted her wineglass back and drained the contents. She had gathered new strength to ask a question of her own.

"You really don't mind the scars on my chest?"

The question was nearly inaudible. Joseph, though, picked it up and continued stroking his wife's back, gently but persistent.

"I love you, Clarisse. Your scars tear my heart out. I want to turn back time and throw myself in front of you, protecting you. But, and I want to make that very clear, they won't keep me from loving you or alter the way I look at you", said Joseph softly, meaning every word with his heart and soul.

"Oh Joseph, I want to believe you but ..."

----

_Clarisse appeared at the great double doors of the new official parliamentarian building. She was late. Just a few minutes __behind schedule but Joseph was worried and eager to catch up on some of the lost time. He had good-naturedly teased her a little about women ALWAYS taking too much time to get ready. Clarisse had laughed her silvery laugh and teased back._

_"Well, you want your Queen to look her best when opening a governmental building, don't you?" she had asked and batted her eyelashes at him in a mock innocent yet slightly flirtatious way._

_Joseph had opened his mouth to retort something but had carefully slid his gaze up and down her body to really take in her appearance and had swallowed hard. Clarisse couldn't think of a better compliment._

_But now her duty called and she plastered the polite half-smile on her face to greet the Major of the town and other dignitaries. _

_"Your Majesty, I hope there were no problems on the road", exclaimed the Major and grasped at Clarisse's proffered hand. Leaning over it, he ogled the beautiful Queen's décolleté and then kissed her gloved hand._

_"No, the drive here was smooth, Mr. Delacour", replied the Queen in her soft voice without taking the bait and explain her delay._

_Things moved smoothly from there on and the various dignitaries clamoured for the Queen's attention. The ribbon cutting ceremony at the inner double doors was photographed and honoured in the appropriate manner and the building was officially open for business._

_The architect had the great honour of touring Her Majesty through the representative rooms of the building. _

_Joseph walked as usual behind his Queen and observed every person in the vicinity, always on the look-out for weapons. Of course his men had checked the Queen's route millimetre for millimetre and had finally called it safe and secure for Her Majesty to walk through the corridors. All that was left for the Security Team now was to make sure that no stranger sneaked in and came near Her Majesty or that anything happened to Her Majesty on the drive back to the Palace._

_And then suddenly it happened._

_The walls exploded. Later on the police would find out that a small bomb and been placed in a hollow pocket behind the wall. Only the Queen's tardiness had prevented her death. Had she been right on schedule the bomb would have exploded next to her and not in front of her. Instead of killing its intended victim the vibrations of the bomb's explosion shattered the windows and tore open the walls._

_Before she could think of anything, Clarisse had turned to her side, the first shard of glass that had exploded inward from the window, penetrating right near her ribs, slashing through her clothes. Dazedly she stared at the hole in her blouse, not comprehending what happened. As oddly as it sounded, it hadn't hurt much. Then the adrenaline of the moment wore off and the next shard, which she was hit by right under her breast, hurt tremendously. _

_For a moment, Joseph was stuck in his own thoughts__ ... This couldn't be happening? Yet his professionalism prevented him from drowning in his panic. As soon as he heard Clarisse's groan of pain when the third shard collided with the fabric of her clothing, then into her skin, he jumped into action. He didn't take a moment's hesitance to stand in front of her, shielding her from any further damage. Pushing her to the ground, he took the last shards with his back and all fell silence except for the occasional cries of help and glass falling slowly to the floor as it slipped off the windows._

_The architect lay next to the Queen on the floor with his arms over his head, trying to shield himself. He hadn't even attempted to save the monarch's wife but rather saved his own skin. Joseph was furious but then he saw blood pooling around the man's hips where a __fragment of a pipe had bored into his flesh._

_That was when Joseph remembered Clarisse's injuries. __Almost frantically Joseph began pulling at Clarisse's jacket, ripping it open and sending buttons flying everywhere, while his men had gathered around and began blocking out the injured Queen from the curious glances of the on-lookers and calling for ambulances. Blood was slowly seeping through the fabric of her blouse and Joseph began to panic. Had he been too late? No, it couldn't be ... not Clarisse ... not his beautiful, lovely Clarisse. Her blouse was the last barrier and he ripped that off her as well, leaving her half-exposed to his gaze. _

_Clarisse's chest was perforated with __three large glass shards, still embedded into her flesh and many smaller inflictions. Joseph suspected that more, smaller glass splinters were under her skin. _

_With surprising strength, Joseph lifted Clarisse off the floor and ordered his men to clear a path so he could rush with Her Majesty to the nearest doctor._

_---- _

_Rupert was disgusted when he observed the nurse changing the bandage around his wife's chest. He had seen the three larger cuts which would, according to the doctors, leave scars. She was still pretty even though she was already in her forties. But now she had lost her last appeal for him. Her flawless complexion was flawed._

_Clarisse saw the disgust in Rupert's eyes and felt her heart sink even lower. Her husband gave her the feeling she was less desirable than ever before. Nothing in his posture or his eyes spoke of sympathy or anything remotely akin to fondness. For him she was only an accessory to take to public functions. He would no longer see the woman in her._

_----_

Joseph curled his hands into fists at the memory. His dark thoughts about his own guilt were repeated in his mind. After the attempted murder of Clarisse he had avoided her for weeks. She herself had not known how to approach him and thank him. But finally they had found together on a dark night in the gardens.

With a faint smile at the memory of their first tender kiss, Joe turned to his wife. He wanted to tell her his secret now that they had sworn honesty to each other but Clarisse was already asleep in his arms. Her head had fallen a little forward on his chest and her breathing was even. Smiling softly and reassuring himself that tomorrow was another day, Joe softly laid his wife down before sliding under the covers himself.


	4. Everybody Thinks It's Their Business

**4. ****Everybody Thinks It's Their Business to Comment**

The next morning Clarisse woke up at the same time as usual. For a moment she was disoriented and couldn't remember anything that had happened the previous day. Her mind was fuzzy and lazily she stretched out in bed. Suddenly she realized the cool friction of her satin sheets on her naked skin and instantly woke up fully, sitting up abruptly. She grasped the sheets around her and clutched it to her bosom almost panicky. And then she noticed something else. Something that almost made her heart stop.

Joseph was lying next to her, still sleeping peacefully. He lay on his stomach with one arm under his head and the other hand splayed out next to his face. His face looked innocent and peaceful. His breathing was still even but he began to move slightly in response to her sudden sitting up.

Clarisse, still fuzzy-minded, jumped out of bed with a small shriek but she covered her mouth almost immediately with a fold of her sheet she still clutch to her chest, trying to make no sound and wake Joseph up. She should have known better. After all he was her Head of Security. As soon as she had left his side he was wide awake and leapt out of bed, crouching low and in a defensive stance, ready to protect her and attack any intruder.

"Clarisse! What is wrong?!" he asked and scanned the room carefully, checking every possible hiding place for an assassin or burglar.

Clarisse stared at the magnificent man standing in the middle of her bedroom as God created him. Her eyes flicked to the lower part of his torso and she blushed furiously at the obvious reaction of his body to the morning. She couldn't explain to herself what Joseph was doing naked in her bed. And then her memory caught up with her. Her knees went weak and Clarisse sank back onto her bed.

Joseph saw her sink back and went over to her. He could only guess what went on in her mind. Surely she now regretted the one time in her life she had been spontaneous and impulsive. Slowly he sat down next to her and covered himself decently. He didn't even try to wrap his arms around her and hold her to him. First he had to find out what she was feeling for him.

"What scared you, Clarisse?" he asked softly then added shrewdly, "Was it finding me in your bed?"

Clarisse blushed again deeply and turned her head to the side to hide it. Slowly she moved her head up and down, nodding reluctantly and feeling terribly silly for her previous actions. After all those years of dreaming about him at night but waking up to an empty bed, she had been confused and startled to wake up naked with him lying next to her, also naked. She had felt as if her world had been turned upside down. But if she was honest to herself, she liked waking up to find someone in her bed and not being alone.

"I see", Joseph's soft voice broke through her contemplations. He was sure that she would tell him now that all this had been one big mistake. "Do you want to ... end this?"

Clarisse jerked around, looking pale and afraid, and grabbed his arm tightly. Her eyes spoke volumes of how she felt for him and Joseph felt his heart lift up considerably. Her dilated pupils told him that the thought of losing him scared her more than she let on. And her lips had involuntarily formed an 'oh' sound.

"No, Joseph", she whispered hoarsely, "please don't leave me."

With a loving smile Joseph scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her even closer until she almost sat on his lap. Stroking her cheek, he slowly cupped her chin with his hand and gently forced her to look at him.

"Could you explain then?" he asked softly.

For a moment Clarisse's face closed up as usual when she was expected to talk about her feelings but then she also remembered their talk last night. Joseph already knew her so well ... better than Rupert had ever known her. He would never laugh at her.

"For a moment I was disoriented and couldn't remember what had happened yesterday", she explained, looking bravely up into Joseph's understanding eyes.

Joseph chuckled softly and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

"I know the feeling. Last night I already had problems comprehending what had happened", he admitted before asking quietly, "Do you regret your impulsiveness from yesterday?"

"No", answered Clarisse simply.

Her eyes held his and both leaned forward at the same time, brushing their lips softly before gradually deepening the kiss. Joseph cupped her face with both hands and stroked her hair behind her ears. Clarisse's arms wrapped around his waist without her volition, leaning into her husband and his soft caresses. After a while Joseph broke the kiss reluctantly and leaned his forehead against hers, breathing deeply to get his arousal under control. There was still something he had to tell his wife before giving in to her seduction.

"Clarisse, there is something I have to tell you", he began hesitantly, so unlike his usual self that Clarisse immediately perked up her ears.

Quickly she leant her head against his shoulder and squeezed his hand. In her mind she went through everything Joseph had ever told her about his life. Somehow she couldn't come up with anything he could have lied about or a part in his story where she had the feeling that something was missing. Patiently she waited for him to continue. Under her right ear she felt Joseph's heart beat accelerate and his breathing was shallow. Whatever he had to tell her he seemed afraid. If he was afraid of the memory or her reaction to it, she couldn't say.

"Do you remember the first state visit you had to master on your own?" asked Joseph softly.

Clarisse blinked a couple of times and sat up slowly, still holding Joseph's hand. She had expected that secret being from his childhood or his military service or a recent one about their breakup. With an effort she gathered her thoughts and forced her mind to remember the trip to England for Queen Elizabeth's 65th birthday 13 years ago. Rupert had stayed home because he had broken a leg in a riding accident and had gotten pampered by his mistress back then while he had sent his wife away to fill in for him.

"Yes, I remember", she muttered, not particularly liking this memory.

Joseph sighed deeply and gathered his courage. He squared his shoulders under her hands and nodded to himself in silent encouragement.

"I never left your side until you made me take a day off. You said it would be fine since you planned to spend the whole day with Her Majesty, going over various state papers and treaties."

"Yes", chuckled Clarisse, seeing the scene in her mind. "You were very angry with me for sending you out to play like a child."

Her crystal clear laugh rang out through their suite and Joseph couldn't help but join her, despite the seriousness of what he had to tell her. Clarisse wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and watched Joseph expectantly.

Joseph had just opened his mouth to go on with his story when there was a knock from the door. Both newlyweds recognized the knock as one from Charlotte but it was shy instead of all business. Clarisse looked at Joseph with real regret in her eyes. She didn't want to answer her aide. She wanted to spend the first day of her marriage alone with her husband. Joseph felt the predicament in his wife and silently nodded for her to answer the door. Luck was not on his side it seemed.

"Enter!" Clarisse called and quickly scrambled out of bed to put on her bathrobe.

Meanwhile Joseph walked over to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Shortly afterwards Clarisse heard the running water of her shower. And then she saw Charlotte and her two maids coming around the corner with trays of food and tea.

"Good morning, Your Majesty", greeted Charlotte with a shy smile and down cast eyes.

Pricilla and Olivia were both not looking at their employer but rather focussed on setting the table. All of the younger women seemed very uncomfortable in this new situation. Clarisse had to grin and turned away, hiding both the grin and a deep blush. She found it hilarious that her aide and maids were uncomfortable while she was the one standing here in the middle of the room in nothing but her bathrobe.

"Your Majesty, you have a lot of calls already. Many of your royal friends have called in to express their best wishes and their prayers for a happy future. They all wait for an answer as soon as possible. Some, namely the King of Spain, (mock-) complained that you didn't invite him to your wedding when he considered you such a good friend", Charlotte rattled down, still not really looking at her Queen.

Clarisse grabbed the back of a chair for support. Yesterday she had only considered what parliament and then her people would say but she had not spared a thought for her royal friends. How would they accept the choice she had made?

"Thank you, Charlotte", Clarisse replied calmly, hiding her guilty conscience and her dread behind her professionalism. "I will see right to it. Please take the rest of the day off if there is no pressing matter ..."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but as a matter of fact there is a matter that requires your attention", mumbled Charlotte.

It was her time to blush and hide her face from her Queen. In that moment Joseph reappeared from the bathroom, dressed as usual in black pants and a black t-shirt. He moved close to Clarisse but didn't put an arm around her. They both seemed a little uncomfortable about expressing their love openly, even just in front of the maids who apparently knew everything and Charlotte who had become Clarisse's friend since San Francisco.

"What would that be, Charlotte?" asked Joe protectively, now taking Clarisse's hand in his for he felt something was coming.

He eyed his friend closely, reading in her eyes that she hated herself for being the bearer of bad news. Charlotte swallowed hard and didn't look at either Joe or Clarisse. She then made up her mind and answered Joe directly.

"Parliament has forced Mr. Motaz to schedule a meeting for this afternoon. Viscount Mabrey is still trying to maintain his hold on parliament. He has now resorted to attack your marriage, Your Majesty."

"I see", mumbled Clarisse, grasping Joseph's hand tighter and involuntarily leaning into him for strength. "When is the meeting planned?"

"At two o'clock, Your Majesty", answered Charlotte promptly.

"Fine. I will be there with my husband."

Then Clarisse turned away without another word and entered the bathroom herself. Joseph looked after her with a deep frown on his forehead but was brought out of his reverie by a small hand being placed on his arm. When he turned his head to find out who touched him he saw Olivia standing next to him. She smiled reassuringly up at him but it was Pricilla who spoke.

"Her Majesty has changed a lot since her trip to America. We all know it is because of Princess Mia ... but you play a big part in her life as well. She trusts you more than anyone else. Believe us she will be fine. She is only angry but not sad and I doubt she will ever regret having married you."

Olivia and Charlotte nodded enthusiastically in agreement before both maids curtsied to Joseph and then disappeared.

"She was heartbroken when she had to turn you down", said Charlotte very quietly. "I followed her to her suite and I heard her crying her heart out. She really loves you. Please never betray her and hurt her. Those wounds would be deeper than the ones King Rupert inflicted on her."

----

Clarisse sat on the edge of her bathtub and scowled at her reflection in the mirror. Why couldn't he just admit defeat and back out gracefully? Now he wanted to attack her marriage with Joseph only because Mia had stood up to him and won. What grounds did he have to attack her anyway?

Clarisse was becoming more and more frustrated and finally picked up her brush, drew back her arm and ... like so many times in her life she gently replaced the brush instead of hauling it across the room. Her breeding and her education forbade her to let feelings rule her life and dictate her behaviour.

Hurriedly she freshened up and dressed to join Joseph for breakfast. Perhaps they would have a chance to prepare for Mabrey's attacks, from whatever angle they would come. Stepping out of her bathroom, she found Joseph standing next to the door with a cup of tea in his hands. He handed her the cup and kissed her lips gently.

"Never worry about Mabrey, darling", he advised her gently.

"I won't", she assured him and went over to her bedside table. "Would you mind if I call Elizabeth? She is the oldest and longest reigning monarch. If I don't at least answer her I will get call after call after call with complaints", laughed Clarisse.

Clarisse loved to complain about her friends and squabble with them but she loved them all dearly. She had grown very fond of all of them since her wedding to Rupert and they had helped her through the rough sailing in her marriage ... well, the women had. They were sometimes in the same boat and understood exactly the pressure she had been under. Joseph wondered briefly if she would still be under the same pressure when she stepped down.

Clarisse picked up the receiver and quickly punched in the private number which would connect her directly with Elizabeth.

"Hello Elizabeth. It's me, Clarisse."

"Hello, Clarisse, best wishes on your wedding", the prim voice of Elizabeth answered her. She still held the childish high notes and the typical British humour was evident. "I was wondering when you would be honest to yourself and your friends about your feelings to Joseph."

Clarisse blushed furiously on her end of the line. She could always count on Elizabeth being more observant than anybody thought. After all those years she was still not really sure how much more than the others Elizabeth had perceived.

"Yes, well, I've been hearing a lot of people ask and say the same thing. Thank you for the best wishes though. I called to thank you ... so ..." muttered Clarisse finally.

Queen Elizabeth was 9 years older than she was and had grown up within the royal family. Clarisse was the daughter of a nobleman and had then married into the royal circle. She had been terribly intimidated by the royal princesses and still held great respect for them, especially Elizabeth who had always stood by her side and helped her when the going got tough.

"Clarisse, please don't hang up yet. I called to congratulate you but also to warn you. Paola is very sore with you for marrying a commoner and your Head of Security. Margaret is also more than a little huffy that first you didn't confide in any of us about this relationship and that you had to make it legal and marry him. Carl Gustav, though, and his Silvia are congratulating you from the bottom of their hearts. Silvia would love to talk to Joseph and perhaps help him in his new role. She knows after all what it is like to marry into a royal family as a commoner. Beatrix is happy for you. Clarisse, I am warning you now. You can't seclude yourself right now ... or shortly after Amelia's coronation to enjoy your honeymoon. You have to face the music ... that is the prize you pay for marrying the love of your life in a spontaneous moment."

Clarisse hung her head. So Elizabeth had noticed the looks between her and Joseph. And secretly she had looked forward to her retirement alone with Joseph somewhere secluded and quiet, far away from any responsibilities.

"Thank you, Lilibeth. I had not planned on marrying ... I don't regret it but I had declined Joseph's proposal. Then suddenly I stood in the church and Mia told me that I could have my fairy ending and I just moved in trance. Be honest to me, Lilibeth, did I jeopardize the monarchy?"

"In Genovia? No. You are more beloved in your country than you realize, Clarisse. And your people noticed the change in you since your return from San Francisco and they not only credited Mia with this change. There was some speculation in the country about a man at your side. Charlotte told me this when I called her earlier and hustled her a little about your relationship with Joseph. If you involve Joseph in your royal duty, as an escort to public functions and giving him charity organisations to chair, and not run off with him then no, you definitely didn't jeopardize the monarchy", assured Elizabeth. "I will talk to you later and you call me when you need advice? ... Oh and give my love to your husband." There was a chuckle in Elizabeth's voice and Clarisse had to smile herself.

After they hung up, Clarisse walked over to the breakfast table where Joseph sat with the newspaper spread in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and leaned slightly forward. Elsie Kentworthy and the other Genovian journalists had obviously taken kindly to the wedding. All articles were positive and hailed the Princess for her bravery and laughed at Viscount Mabrey and his fruitless attempts to end the Renaldi reign and congratulated the beloved Queen and her husband. Clarisse kissed Joseph's bald head softly and walked over to the other side of the table to eat something. She needed her strength to face Mabrey later.


	5. Null and Void

5. Null and Void

After a leisurely breakfast Clarisse went to her office only to encounter her granddaughter and Charlotte already at work on her desk. Both women were too engrossed in their work to notice Clarisse standing in the door. For a moment Clarisse watched both of them carefully. Mia was in command and poised. Her behaviour at her wedding had obviously not just been a fluke. Clarisse witnessed her granddaughter taking over her duties effortlessly.

"Good morning, honey", she murmured to Mia as she stepped into the room. "Hard at work already?"

Mia looked up and smiled radiantly at her. She didn't look flustered at being caught working on her grandmother's desk and without her permission. Her brown eyes sparked happily as she quickly stood up and moved to hug her grandma.

"Morning, Grandma. How was your night?" she asked rather cheekily and laughed outright when Clarisse blushed deeply.

Charlotte hid her face, and the smile adorning it, by turning back to the desk and pretending to search through the papers. Mia though eyed her grandmother steadily and waited for an answer. Searchingly she locked her eyes with Clarisse's, trying to see through the Queen facade. Clarisse abandoned the facade quickly for her granddaughter and opened the windows to her soul. Mia saw the confusion but also the real joy and happiness in the eyes of her grandmother. Smiling softly at her, Mia embraced Clarisse tightly and snuggled her head into her shoulder.

"I'm so glad you married him, Grandma, and so happy for you and Joe that now you can find love and happiness together", she whispered for Clarisse alone to hear.

Clarisse wrapped her own arms around Mia's back and held her close, stroking her shoulders and hair. She was touched to her core by Mia's solicitousness.

"Thank you, sweetheart", she whispered back, blinking to suppress her tears, before asking louder, "So what are you two doing here?"

"Oh, we wanted to take your work off your shoulders", Mia told her, disentangling herself softly from her grandmother's embrace. "We won't touch any of the important treaties and papers you yourself have to read and sign, but you won't have to worry about the preparations for the coronation. And Mum and Lilly are here to help me ... oh, and I have also the support of Lady Jérôme and Lady Lovat. Please enjoy the week with Joseph, Grandma. You two spent ... wasted so much time hiding your feelings for each other but now that you are married you can finally enjoy each other. Charlotte will leave a box with the most important papers for you in the living room of your suite with the breakfast and you can work through them when you feel like it."

Beaming at her grandmother Mia stood in front of her like an overeager puppy and Clarisse had to chuckle at the enthusiasm of her young granddaughter. Mia was right, of course, about everything she had said. Clarisse and Joseph were newlyweds and should enjoy the first days of their marriage together but again her duty drove her away from him, demanding that she put her country and its people before her heart. Hanging her head slightly, she moved towards the desk and sat down on the chair Mia had vacated only moments ago.

"That's a very sweet thought, Mia, but I can't do that", she replied steadily, with a conviction she didn't feel in her heart. "There are matters you can't handle right now and the coronation is a milestone in both our lives. Everything has to be perfect for it."

"I know, Grandma", said Mia gently. "I have read through the protocol a hundred times. Trust me, I make sure everything is taken care of and perfectly executed. No more surprises", she added, grinning sheepishly at Clarisse.

Clarisse chuckled softly as well and looked up to her granddaughter's dancing eyes.

"I am so very glad you followed your heart, Mia", she confided in her. "I couldn't bear the thought that you were forced to go through the same things I had to go through. My heart ached because you were willing to sacrifice yourself for the dynasty of your family. I'm so sorry, Mia, that ..."

"Don't, Grandma", Mia pressed out through clenched teeth. Her hands were raised in a hushing gesture and she stared right into Clarisse's eyes angrily. "You didn't force me to go through with this marriage. Parliament did! You advised me against making the biggest mistake of my life. Thank you for telling me the truth and keeping me from being an idiot. I love you so much, Grandma, and I was never angry at you. I'm just so sad that you ..."

"Oh Mia", Clarisse whispered, interrupting her granddaughter's ramblings, before getting to her feet and embracing Mia tightly. "I made my choices. There is no one to blame but myself and especially not you. Mia, whatever happened, happened before you were born and before we met. Enjoy your life and don't compare yourself to me. I thought it was clear to you yesterday where that would lead you", Clarisse tried to joke, failing miserably and betraying her feelings with the tears which spilled forth from her eyes.

For a long time grandmother and granddaughter clung to each other. Both knew of the pressure the crown put on their shoulders, the struggle to live up to impossible standards, the sacrifices their privileged lives demanded from them and the dark past overshadowing their unknown future.

Joseph stood in the door and listened to his beloved wife entrusting her granddaughter with a small glimpse into her life. He was overwhelmed by the strength of his own feelings for both women and the irrepressible urge to protect them with his life. No one would ever again hurt his girls without having to step over his dead body. Then he felt Charlotte's gaze on him and looked at her. His close friend smiled at him with deep affection and understanding showing in her eyes. For years now she had watched over her friends' secret, never betraying them and diverting the attention of others away from them. Joseph knew how much he owed Charlotte and silently inclined his head in thanks.

Mia slowly disentangled herself from her grandmother but not before she softly kissed her on the cheek. Clarisse cupped Mia's cheek lovingly, causing Mia to blush as she recognized the deeply affectionate gesture usually reserved for Joe. She smiled at Clarisse and fought back tears. With an effort she pulled herself together though.

"When you have stamped Mabrey into the dust could you come to my suite?" asked Mia a little shyly. "I have a wedding gift for you and Joe. Please?" she pleaded.

"We will come", assured Clarisse, smiling softly at her granddaughter.

----

Clarisse had not been able to leave her office and enjoy her day with Joseph. The call of duty was too strong to ignore and Joseph had been understanding enough not to drag her away from her work. Now her meeting with Parliament was fast approaching and Clarisse grew agitated. As they slowly walked towards the Chambers of Parliament Joseph moved closer to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting his wife silently and trying to disperse her nervousness.

They reached the door to the Chamber of Parliament and waited to be announced. Then they heard the booming voice informing Parliament that Her Majesty had arrived.

"Please raise yourself for Her Majesty Clarisse Augustine Mignonette Renaldi Elizondo, Queen of Genovia, and her husband Joseph Hector César Elizondo", announced the Master of Ceremony.

Clarisse grabbed his hand for a moment, seeking reassurance, before she squared her shoulders and, head held high, walked into the hall. Joseph automatically fell back two steps, his rightful place as her husband, and walked in after her. He followed Clarisse to the front of the room and took his place, standing behind her throne on the pedestal. Clarisse faced Parliament with a stony face. Almost all Parliamentarians had seconded Mia's motion the day before but what if their views had now changed? What if she herself had destroyed everything by her impulsiveness? Hiding her nervousness perfectly behind her professional mask, she nodded to the Master of Ceremony to start the session.

"Parliament is now in session. Prime Minister Motaz residing", intoned the Master of Ceremony again. "Viscount Mabrey, if you please, you have the floor."

Clarisse watched with apprehension as Mabrey rose from his chair with a sneer on his face. His eyes, though, spoke a different language. He had dark circles under them and they looked tired but most certainly not defeated. When he met Clarisse's eyes, he locked his eyes with hers, making sure she got the message that he meant to destroy her happiness.

"As you are well aware there are some rules for a royal wedding", Mabrey started his assault but he was cut off almost immediately.

"Perhaps, Viscount", admonished Lord Jérôme in his usual grave voice, "you should start off by wishing Her Majesty your best for her marriage."

Lord Jérôme was always considerate about other people's feelings. He was a gentle soul and had never been in the crowd surrounding King Rupert. Now he looked softly over to Clarisse and Joseph behind her, bowing his head in respect.

"My best wishes on your marriage, Ma'am", he addressed her kindly.

Then he turned back to Arthur Mabrey and glared at Mabrey. Wisdom and cleverness were clearly evident in his features and now he was obviously asking himself with what Mabrey would come up next. Silently he warned Mabrey that he was on the Queen's side in this argument.

"Bring forward your grounds on which you call Her Majesty's wedding illegitimate", ordered Lord Palimore, also impatient and angry.

"Oh, I will", sneered Viscount Mabrey. "You see a member of the royal family needs the permission of Parliament to marry."

Murmurs of both agreement and protest were heard. Clarisse tightened her grip around the armrests of her throne, feeling Joseph step closer to her. She heard the low growl in his throat and cast a glance over her shoulder, telling him to behave.

"Gentlemen, Gentlemen, please" Sebastian Motaz pleaded with the assembled men. "Viscount Mabrey, you cannot ..."

"Is it not right, Prime Minister, that Parliament has to agree with the royal's choice?" he asked provocatively, daring the other members of Parliament to disagree and prove themselves as hypocrites. "In 1952 Princess Margaret of England wanted to marry Peter Townsend, a divorcée. When she asked permission to marry him, Parliament informed her that her choice was unacceptable. Later on they acquiesced to her wishes under the conditions that if she married she had to give up her title and privileges. Now I don't think that Genovia is less proud than the United Kingdom and we shouldn't let our Queen marry beneath her stature and drag our monarchy through mud."

Joseph lurched forward but Clarisse clamped her hand around his wrist with surprising strength. Imperceptibly she shook her head and told Joseph silently to step back and let her handle Parliament. After all she had the most experience with these men. She knew their tricks. Then she glared down on Mabrey and slowly stood up. Drawing herself to her full height, she locked her eyes with Mabrey's.

----

Mia, Lilly and Charlotte were hiding in the secret passage with the little window overlooking Parliament. Mia's eyes widened when she heard the Viscount's words. Her lips formed a soundless 'no' and her hands curled into fists. She was livid with anger. This man had tried to force her into an arranged marriage, had tried to steal the crown from her and now he tried with all his might to destroy her grandmother's happiness. Mia would not allow that to happen. She glanced over at Lilly who answered her with a determined gleam in her eyes and a nod of the head.

Charlotte observed her Queen proudly. She stood tall and seemingly unimpressed before all those men and stared them down. For a moment Charlotte asked herself if Mia would ever be able to do as fine a job as her grandmother. When Clarisse spoke her voice was sharp but still controlled.

----

"You cannot be serious, Viscount Mabrey", Clarisse said. She bristled inwardly but was able to keep the anger from her voice. "I am married. You cannot annul my marriage without my consent and that of my husband ... and not asking _your _permission is hardly a ground for doubting the legitimacy of my marriage."

Her voice had grown stronger and stronger while she talked, causing not few men to lean away from her and avert their eyes. They could feel the anger radiating from her small frame. Some of them had always, even after King Rupert's death, thought her weak and bendable to their wishes. Clarisse had easily resisted them with charm and poise. Now she showed them from what material she was really made.

Clarisse's eyes sparked with an intense fire, Joseph had only seen in them before when she had defended her sons from their father. She stood erect, proud and strong. Joseph felt immensely proud of her and could, yet again, not believe that this magnificent woman had really married him. Him. A nobody. Out of hundreds of would-be husbands. Then he remembered something and refocused his gaze on Mabrey, glaring fiercely.

----

_Joe stood near the double doors leading towards the ballroom. Her Majesty had taken refuge in the ante-chamber and pressed a cool hand against her burning cheeks. Joe knew she had a cold a__nd a temperature but she had still insisted to host this ball and not cancel. _

_ "Your Majesty?" he asked gently, moving slightly closer to her._

_Clarisse shook her head and held up her other hand, still encased in her glove, to keep Joe at a respectable distance._

_A forced cough from the door interrupted their interaction. Joe whirled around immediately, all his senses alert. Viscount Mabrey stood in the door with a bright smile on his face. A smile that didn't reach his eyes._

_ "Your Majesty, you promised me this dance", he said softly, extending his hand to her._

_Clarisse stepped forward from behind her Head of Security and nodded gravely. She lightly touched Joseph's arm to let him know that she was alright. Joe only nodded, his eyes still on the Viscount._

_ "I do believe I have", she said lightly, smiling at him._

_Joe observed the woman he loved closely as she danced with Mabrey. He had always hated that jerk. King Rupert and he had made publicity with their numerous affairs (the King only slightly more discreet than the Viscount)._

_Now he inhaled sharply as he saw how Mabrey drew the Queen closer than protocol allowed and let his hand slide down her back to her derrière. __As soon as it occurred Joe surged forward immediately and tapped the Viscount on the shoulder more forcefully than necessary. His Queen sent him a thankful but exhausted smile and disentangled herself instantly from Mabrey. _

----

Now Joe knew what Mabrey was so angry about. It was not the fact Clarisse had not asked Parliament for permission but the fact that he couldn't have her anymore.

Narrowing his eyes, he stepped forward to stand by his wife's side. He had spent too many years in the shadows already. Parliament would have to accept him as the husband of the former Queen of Genovia. Mia would take over in a week's time and Clarisse would only hold an advising position. And he would never have a powerful position himself, not that he desired one. There was no reason why Parliament would not agree with the marriage.

"We can solve the issue of Her Majesty's marriage easily", Sebastian Motaz interrupted the silent battle of wills. "We will vote on this issue ..."

"I will not have my marriage put up for a vote", snarled Joseph quietly. "This is ridiculous. We are legally married ... in front of a church full of witnesses."

Motaz nodded his head in agreement but there were still some Parliamentarians on Mabrey's side and they began to protest strongly now.

----

Mia saw her grandmother tense up. She almost felt sorry for the stupid men standing between Clarisse and her happiness.

Charlotte, standing next to her, began to grin though. She nodded silently and her eyes glittered in the dark.

"The majority is in favour of the marriage", she explained quietly. "Mabrey will lose this battle as well and has to admit defeat", she whispered happily, barely containing her glee.

----

Clarisse curled her hands into fists, her manicured nails digging painfully into the palm of her hand, keeping her from screaming her rage. Regally she nodded towards her Prime Minister. She was willing to put her marriage, or rather its legitimacy up for a vote.

"All those in favour of accepting Her Majesty's choice in a husband say 'aye'," ordered Sebastian gravely.

All Parliamentarians except Mabry and five of his supporters stood up as one and all but shouted 'aye'. The majority was accepting Joseph as Her Majesty's husband.

Joe couldn't suppress a grin as he locked eyes with Mabrey. They had won and silently Joe threatened Mabrey to make true of his words spoken in the stables weeks ago. But instead of backing down Mabrey sneered horribly.

"I have more grounds for objections," he snarled out. "She was not given away by a member of her family, nor by her son."

"These are only formalities. Her Majesty is the matriarch of her family and her granddaughter was present at her wedding. Her Highness acted as witness", interjected Lord Crawley loudly. "If you have no other objections, please remove yourself from the floor."

Many other Parliamentarians voiced similar requests and suddenly Mabrey found himself near alone. Joe looked at him coldly but suddenly pricked up his ears. He could have sworn he heard a whooping sound from nearby.

----

Mia and Lilly were both shushed forcefully by Charlotte who forgot herself for a moment and glared at the two younger women. Her stern glare stood in stark contrast to her wide grin, though. Her Queen had forced her enemy to the knees.

----

"One Genovian lord breached the castle of a recently widowed French noblewoman", Mabrey told Parliament. "He murdered all her faithful guards and forced the local priest to perform the marriage. Later he towed her off to her bed and consummated the marriage in front of witnesses ..."

"Come again? You can't possibly be serious?" demanded Lord Fricker disbelievingly.

"What does that have to do with our situation? I sincerely hope that you are NOT proposing that Her Majesty and Mr. Elizondo consume their marriage in front of parliament!" screamed Lord Lovat angrily. He was a strong supporter of the Queen since she had helped his wife in the hardest of times after Lady Lovat had lost her child.

Joe stood next to Clarisse and just stared at the Viscount as if he had just grown a second head. Clarisse's left eyebrow was raised and her gaze was very suspicious. She wouldn't put it past Mabrey to insist on such an archaic tradition.

The Viscount grinned diabolically.

"Well, there is always another choice."

He paused dramatically.

"Well, what is it? Don't agitate me, Mabrey. I'm in no mood ..." Joseph growled, barely keeping a grip on his temper.

"The law accepts pregnancy as a proof as well. But since Her Majesty is unable to ... let's say fulfil her wifely duties in this field and thus confirm the consummation of their wedding, I see no other solution."

Clarisse just sank back into her chair, overcome by a sudden tiredness. She couldn't breathe anymore. Her lungs seemed constricted, her throat pressed tightly together. Suddenly her head fell forward into her hands and she was grateful for a moment that no one could see her face. Disbelief was quickly replaced by memories of her first wedding night over 40 years ago.

----

_The room was completely silent, except for his heavy breathing, while he scrutinized her from head to toe. Clarisse was still wearing her wedding dress and felt terribly shy. She had been raised in a catholic girls' school and knew only the basics about what was supposed to happen in this night. _

_Rupert quickly divested himself of his clothes and looked expectantly over to her. Clarisse was beet red as she observed her groom through lowered eyelashes. He was muscular and very well-built. His strong frame frightened her a little. He could easily overpower her and she didn't feel at all safe in his presence._

_ "Well undress"__, he said curtly and watched her closely as she raised her hand to tuck off her tiara and veil._

_Slowly she removed her shoes and gloves. Obviously she had moved too slowly for suddenly Rupert was by her side and impatiently turned her around. The muted sound of her zipper made her shudder. Then he briskly helped her out of her dress. _

_Quickly Clarisse dived under the covers of their bed and tucked the blanket under her chin. The summer sun was coming in from the opened windows along with music and laughter. She felt exposed and vulnerable._

_ "Oh come on. We are married. Quit hiding under the covers", he ordered and moved closer to the bed._

_He tried. He really tried. Clarisse had to give him that. He kissed her and stroked her but she was too tense to realize his kindness. Whenever he touched her she tensed up since everyone had told her that it would hurt horribly the first time and then nine months later. _

_And then he lost patience. Slapping her hard across the face, he positioned himself over her and forced her legs apart. _

_ "It is your duty as my wife to 'honour me and love me' so spread those legs", he huffed out._

_Clarisse had given up her faint struggles and commanded her body to obey duty. Quivering under him, she had shut her eyes. She felt the tip of his sex touch her most intimately and immediately tensed up again, preparing herself for the pain sure to come. He pushed forward and entered her. Clarisse gasped and pressed her eyes shut tighter. Rupert pushed on until she couldn't take it anymore._

_ "Please", she begged him, "pull it out. It hurts so much."_

_ "I'm still at the opening so stop your whining", he retorted coldly. _

_H__e pushed on until he reached her hymen. By now Clarisse was in tears and her abdomen felt on fire. Her hands were clawed into the sheets while she tried to breathe even and suppress the pain._

_Rupert held still for a few seconds before he retreated and slowly slid out of her again. Clarisse heaved a sigh of relief only to empty her lungs screaming in pain as Rupert thrust forward, burying himself to the root and ripping her hymen apart._

_Outside his friends were roaring in triumph, toasting the successful groom and his deflowered bride. __They sung dirty songs while Rupert finished. _

_Afterwards he got up and walked over to the window, leaning leisurely on the balustrade and smoking his cigarette. His friends __wolf-whistled and called up obscene words to Rupert who just grinned. It never even crossed his mind to tend to his crying wife._

----

Clarisse was trembling as she remembered that Viscount Mabrey had been one of those young friends of the crown prince. Her hands were clammy but she refused to give in to her bad memories. Before she could do more than lift her head, she heard Joseph's voice near her ear.

"Are you alright, darling?" he asked concerned, touching her shoulder lightly.

Carefully she looked into his eyes and nodded hesitantly. Cupping his cheek lovingly, she smiled a little more brightly at him before standing up again. She faced Mabrey angrily, drawing on the last shreds of her strength. Witheringly she stared down at him and her voice boomed through the hall, drowning out all other sounds.

"I will _not_ submit to your games, Mabrey", she said clearly, making sure he understood every syllable. "My husband and I are legally married. Parliament just _confirmed_ our marriage as being legal. You were outvoted. Neither Joseph nor I will even consider performing this abominable tradition. This is the 21st century and those ancient laws are not only archaic but also humiliating. They come from a time when women were considered less than any man. I ask you now, Mabrey, and please think before you answer me, do you really consider yourself worthier than my granddaughter and I?"

Mabrey stared at Clarisse, shell-shocked. He had gathered from her silence that she would give in, that she would abandon this folly when he presented all his objections, battering her constantly. Surely Clarisse would do everything to save her country from disgrace?

Then Mabrey sneered at her. He knew that Rupert had never allowed much confidence to rise in Clarisse and now he would show her her rightful place as a woman.

"A woman is not as strong as a man and she is not prone to logical thought. She needs a man to think for her and tell her what to do", exclaimed the Viscount with great conviction. "Your choice in a husband clearly showed that. After 6 years you grew ... lonely. But why couldn't you pick a more suitable candidate?"

"Such as yourself?" Clarisse asked acidly, glaring down at the insufferable man.

"I am a nobleman ..."

"No, you are ambitious", interrupted the Queen with loathing in her voice.

She would never forgive this man for his attempt to force Mia into an arranged marriage and for attacking Joseph publicly.

"You were never meant to rule!" yelled Mabrey, at last showing his true colours. "You're not even royal by birth! What good is a woman other than marrying a man and doing as she is told? No one would have questioned my right on the Crown with you as my wife after Prince Philippe's death. I would have ruled this country. I would have taught you your place since you seem to have forgotten ..."

With a feral growl, Joseph launched himself at Mabrey. He grabbed the Viscount by the throat and crashed him into the base of the pedestal.

"Apologize!" he ordered forcefully.

"Joseph! Let go of him!" Clarisse's voice cut through his anger and he immediately pulled his hands away from his foe. "Guards! Escort Viscount Mabrey out." Turning towards Sebastian Motaz, she continued coldly: "I move to strip Viscount Mabrey of his hereditary seat in Parliament on the grounds of lèse-majesty."

Clarisse locked eyes with every parliamentarian, forcing her will on them. She made them all _her _witnesses to this scene. None of them dared to say anything. And Mabrey was still in shock. Slowly the 'strong' men bowed their heads and nodded, accepting her judgement.

And then Clarisse did something she had never done before. The Queen walked out of Parliament, leaving nothing but silence behind.

Stalking out with Joseph's hand in hers, she didn't look back. She refused to let go of his hand, which meant he walked next to her and not behind her.


	6. Wedding Gifts

I own nothing. The characters all belong to Disney and Meg Cabot. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from this story.

6. Wedding Gifts

Mia paced the small chapel, which was the entrance to the secret passage, and muttered darkly under her breath. She was pacing the small space with furious strides. She had known that Arthur Mabrey was a nasty piece of work but this was too much even for him. Mia just couldn't believe he had done all this to her and her grandmother. For the first time she experienced real hatred and a burning rage.

Lilly watched her best friend closely and was slightly disturbed by the enraged spark in her eyes. Normally it was her with the bad attitude and Mia with the even temper always finding a positive aspect of every situation. Lilly was worried for what her impulsive friend might do. There certainly was a mischievous, almost maniac gleam in her friend's eyes.

Charlotte watched Princess Mia also and was slightly worried for Mabrey's safety ... but only slightly. She knew that if Joe got to Mabrey before there would be no Mabrey for Mia to handle. She grinned wolfishly before being drawn out of her thoughts by Mia's voice.

"I hate this jerk! How can he do that to Grandma?" she yelled angrily, curling her hands into fists. "She deserves this happiness and he has no right to butt in on her marriage!"

Charlotte glanced over to the Princess and wondered if the Princess actually knew of the nature of her Grandmother's relationship with Joe ... how it all had begun. It certainly wasn't her place to inform the young woman of it but she also knew that Her Majesty would never confide her deepest feelings to anyone, not even her grandchild. Her only grandchild. She had always tried to protect the young vibrant woman as much as she had tried to protect her sons. Charlotte was aware that even though she had always been so observant.

Before Mia could formulate a plan to get back at Mabrey, Charlotte heard voices approaching their hide-out. Lilly's ears pricked up as well and she clamped a hand over Mia's mouth and towed her into the secret passage. Charlotte quickly followed and just as she closed the hidden door she saw Joseph coming into the chapel, dragging the Queen in behind him. Then she opened the eyes of the saint to look into the chapel.

"Joseph, what are we doing here?" Clarisse asked, still furious with Parliament.

Joseph was unfazed and merely turned, embracing Clarisse tenderly while nuzzling her neck. He silently told her that he was there no matter what. Clarisse stiffened at first, causing Mia to wonder if the solitary position as Queen had rendered her grandmother this cold and distant, but then Clarisse relaxed into her husband's arms. Smiling triumphantly Joseph tightened his hold around her, drawing her closer.

"You have to relax before I can justify setting you free in the palace", he teased her gently.

Clarisse raised her head to mock-glare at him but rather dissolved into giggles over his charmingly innocent smile.

"You are, as always, right", she conceded, "but I can't believe the gall of this insufferable fool!" she ranted on.

Gently pushing away from Joseph, she began to pace the small chapel with angry strides. Joseph watched her and was again struck with how close in behaviour Mia was to her grandmother. He also knew better than to touch her right now. She had to vent her anger and later he could console her.

"Such medieval, chauvinistic ideas!" Clarisse muttered, her voice slowly rising in volume. "How dare he attacking me like that!?! How dare he insinuate that he is superior to a woman?! Mia has proven that she can hold her own against Parliament, and especially against him! She will make a good Queen ... I will see to it even if it's the last thing I do!"

Joseph cringed a little at her sudden outburst. He had been right to assume she wouldn't be able to hold in her anger for long and it was definitely better for all involved that she vented it here where he was her only witness. It was also so like her to be more enraged on behalf of her granddaughter than her own. At her last statement Joseph heaved a resigned sigh. His plans to spend his remaining years alone with his beloved Clarisse evaporated into thin air. He should have known that she couldn't just hand over her duty to Mia and relax.

"Teach me my place! Unable to think without a man! Weak!" Clarisse's enraged voice cut through Joseph's musings and he felt his blood boiling in indignation and fury. He wanted nothing more than to hunt down Mabrey and pound him mercilessly.

"What have I ever done to that ... that canaille!?!" Now Clarisse's French roots surfaced and Joseph knew from experience that as soon as she started to rant on in French the situation needed diffusion or it would all too soon escalate.

Clarisse was standing rigidly in front of the altar, her hands braced against the cold stones. Her cheeks were tinged in deep red and her eyes sparked icily. Whirling around to face Joseph, she placed both fists on her hips and glared at her husband. For a moment Joseph wondered why he didn't immediately turned to stone at her gaze.

"Have I not suffered enough on behalf of this 'great nation'? I sacrificed my life, my two sons and now my only grandchild for the monarchy and still it's not enough! What else do they want? Am I not allowed some happiness in my life? Je déteste Mabrey et son jalousie et ses intrigues!!!"

Suddenly tears flowed from her eyes and her knees began to wobble dangerously. Apparently she had run out of steam. A sob tore from her chest and before her legs gave way under her Joseph was there to catch her as always. Burying her face in his chest, she let go and sobbed unashamedly, knowing Joseph would never think her weak or judge her.

Joseph just held her in his arms, clinging to her as if his life depended on it. Every few seconds he brushed his lips over the top of her head, murmuring words of love and comfort to her. His arms were around her waist and back, supporting her weight against his chest. Caressing the tips of her hair, nape and shoulders, Joseph gradually calmed her enough for her to continue.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of", she confessed to him, face still hidden in the folds of his customary black shirt, words slightly muffled. "I'm afraid of the intensity of my own feelings for you and I was afraid that Parliament and the public would look down on and attack you. Of course, they think we had a prior relationship ... how can they not after speculating about Rupert, his affaires and the state of our marriage? Surely they think: why expect her to honour vows of fidelity when her husband clearly didn't?"

Clarisse worked herself up into a nervous breakdown but Joseph was right there, pulling her up before she could fall.

"Cholita, have you any idea how much you are loved and respected amongst your people?" he asked softly. "The press is so positive about our somewhat ... impromptu wedding because they all wish you happiness. They stand behind you ... and more importantly _I_ stand behind you. Never let Mabrey get to you. He isn't worth all the worrying," he said softly, Suddenly he chuckled and drew a thumb over her forehead, "Besides frowning like that will give you wrinkles."

Clarisse chuckled softly in response and reached up, taking hold of his wrist and bringing it down to her mouth. She kissed his palm tenderly before snuggling her cheek into it. Her eyes shone with love as she look up at him.

"I love you so much, mon amour," she whispered. "Let's put all this behind us and go to Mia, apparently she has something for us." She laughed nervously. "What do you suppose it is? Knowing her it could be ... everything."

Joseph laughed with her, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I doubt it will be something outrageous. She looks out for your good reputation."

"Alright then, let's go and find out," offered Clarisse.

Joseph drew her gently closer to him and kissed her cheeks.

"Yes, but before we meet Mia, let's go to our bedroom. You need to freshen up," he said gently, tracing some tear stains with his finger.

----

As soon as her grandmother and Joe left the chapel, Mia slowly emerged from the secret passage. Her hands were balled into fists and her eyes were flashing dangerously.

Charlotte was, yet again, struck by the similarity between the Princess and the Queen. Mia's eyes were throwing daggers just like Clarisse's had only moments before. For a moment she was really afraid of what this spirited girl would do next. Charlotte was sure that if Mabrey were in the same room with them he wouldn't survive long. But instead of storming off to find the man responsible for her grandmother's heartache and screaming at him, the Princess only turned to her best friend.

"Lilly, I want to go through your CD collection," she informed her, her voice clipped and full of suppressed anger.

"Sure. What are you looking for?" Lilly asked, more than a bit intrigued.

"Oh, you'll see," Mia answered mysteriously.

----

Later that day Clarisse stood in front of her granddaughter's suite, holding Joseph's hand. She confidently knocked on the door and was surprised when the door opened instantly. Mia threw it wide open, stepping out and embracing Clarisse tightly. For a few moments she just clung to her grandmother then she slowly pulled away, pressing a kiss onto each of Clarisse's cheeks. Her grandmother stared at her, stunned and silent. Why was Mia acting like that? As if she was saying goodbye or as if Clarisse needed comfort.

"Mia ..." Clarisse started tentatively but was interrupted by Mia who flung herself at Joseph.

Hugging the man who had become a father figure to her, Mia tried desperately to hold in her tears. She wanted this marriage to work, she wanted her grandmother to find happiness, and she wanted only the best for those two very special people. Joseph hugged her back hesitantly, not quite sure how to react to her show of affection.

"Come on in", Mia squealed happily and turned towards her living room.

Joseph, though, had seen the tears sliding down her cheeks. And by Clarisse's jerk forward, surging after her granddaughter, he assumed she had, too.

"Mia ..." she started again but was again interrupted by Mia.

"Sit down on the sofa. I'll be with you in a sec," she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom section.

Cautiously the newlyweds sat down on the edge of the sofa, feeling uncomfortable about Mia's unusual behaviour. Before they could talk about it though, Lilly came back in with a tray of Champagne flutes. She set it down delicately on the small end table and handed both Clarisse and Joseph a glass.

"Mia will be out in a sec," she said with a smile.

Clarisse noticed that there was a sad expression in her eyes as well. Perhaps the two of them had had a fight, she reasoned and felt relieved that she had figured out why both girls behaved so unusually. Just as she opened her mouth to ask Lilly about the fight, the soft notes of music filled the room. Clarisse's eyes widened slightly as she listened to Whitney Houston's and Celine Dion's son 'Wind beneath my wings'. It was a lovely melody and the text reflected so perfectly her relationship with Joseph. She fought down tears as she listened to every word of the lyrics. She looked over to Joseph from under her eyelashes. These were exactly her feelings for him. How did Mia know that? She had thought her heart guarded and her thoughts unreadable.

Mia, who had entered the room unnoticed, walked slowly over to where her grandmother sat and smiled softly down at her.

"I love you, grandma," she whispered, "Never again think about the vile things that jackass Mabrey said today. You have Joseph and he loves you with all his heart. Nothing else matters."

"How do you know all this?" Clarisse asked guardedly.

Mia looked down embarrassed, studying her toes.

"I kinda overheard ..."

"You mean you eavesdropped?" asked Joseph shrewdly, grinning at Mia.

The Princess nodded slowly, waiting for her grandmother's angry outburst. Instead she felt soft arms wrapping around her shoulders and soft lips brushing her temple.

"Thank you for looking out for me, Mia," Clarisse whispered into her ear, "but Princesses never eavesdrop," she added with a sterner voice and a twinkle in her eyes.

"Sorry, grandma," conceded Mia a little hesitantly but unable to hide her grin. "Can I now give you your present?"

Clarisse nodded slowly and settled back down next to Joseph. She was curious what Mia had gotten for them on such short notice.

"Grandma, Joe, I have here the keys of Grandma's childhood home. Genovia 1 is ready to fly you off to France after the coronation. One week of wonderful relaxation await you", she exclaimed, waving her arms and talking as if praising a luxury spa. "The staff will set everything up and you won't have any functions or meetings to attend to. You can take long walks in the vineyard, swim in the pool ... or drink wine and then make love ... sorry, I couldn't resist," she giggled, seeing Clarisse's cheeks redden and Joseph's jaw drop. "But honestly, just enjoy yourselves."

Joseph chuckled at Mia's cheekiness and Clarisse's slightly embarrassed expression. Slowly he nodded to Mia, appreciating her thoughtful gift.

Mia slowly walked over to her grandmother and knelt down in front of her, putting her head onto her grandmother's lap and looking up to her with her father's eyes. Clarisse gently stroked her cheek and smiled lovingly down on her.

"That is a lovely gift, Mia," she spoke softly. "I haven't been at Chateau Bellevue in ages."

----

Clarisse staggered across her living room, still wobbly-legged from the emotional rollercoaster today, and collapsed gratefully on the couch. It was so soft, inviting and melded to her body perfectly. She wondered briefly whether it was worth the effort to get up and wash her face before succumbing to the urge of sleep.

She had just about decided that she might get up for Gabriel's Trump, but not much else, when she saw that Joseph was still standing by the door with an uncertain look in his eyes. He crossed the room in two steps and took Clarisse by the hands, drawing her from her exhausted stupor. He put a finger under her chin and forced her gaze up.

"Clarisse", he said evenly. "Please look at me ... this here is important."

Clarisse stole a glance at him, and found him staring at her with an expression of pure, unadulterated love.

"Yes, mon chéri", she said quietly, focusing all of her attention on him.

"I got something for you earlier today," he admitted, seeming shy and slightly embarrassed.

"And what did you get me?" she asked suspiciously. Why was he so shy all of a sudden?

Joseph sighed and hesitated for a moment, then placed a small package lightly into her lap.

"A wedding ring, my love," he said. "The ring I put on your finger in church was meant for Mia and it's a little too tight for you ... and it wasn't meant to be yours. I bought this ring a few years ago but never found the courage to give it to you. When I saw it I knew it was made for you."

"Oh," Clarisse said in a small voice.

"Go ahead," he said, a moment later. "Open it. It's yours."

The outlines of the little package blurred under her fingers. She blinked and sniffed, but made no move to open it. Reaching over her, Joseph took the package from her lap and tore away the wrapping, revealing a wide silver band, decorated with small sapphires all around it, a small and delicate French lily carved in the biggest one on the top.

So much she saw, and then her eyes blurred again. Clarisse found a handkerchief thrust into her hands, and did her best to stanch the flow with it.

"It's ... beautiful," she said, clearing her throat and dabbling at her eyes.

"Will you wear it, Clarisse?" His voice was gentle now, and his use of her name, mostly reserved for occasions of formality or tenderness, nearly made her break down again. He sat motionless, waiting, holding the tiny circlet near his heart.

Clarisse couldn't speak, but held out her right hand to him, fingers trembling. The ring slipped cool and bright over her knuckle and rested snug at the base of her finger – a perfect fit. Joseph held her hand a moment, looking at it, then suddenly pressed her knuckles hard against his mouth. He raised his head, and Clarisse saw his face for an instant, fierce and urgent, before he pulled her almost roughly onto his lap.

He held Clarisse hard against him then, without speaking, and she could feel the pulse-beat in his throat, hammering like her own. His hands went to her shoulders, and he held her slightly away, so that she was looking upward into his face. His hands were large, and very warm, and she felt slightly dizzy.

"I love you, Clarisse. Always have and always will," he said, sounding choked. He paused a moment as though unsure what to say next. "I want you so much – I can scarcely breathe. Will ..." He swallowed, then cleared his throat. "Will you have me?"

By then Clarisse had found her voice. It squeaked and wobbled, but it worked.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'll have you."

Joseph was in heaven. Closing his eyes, he relished the feeling of having her sit in his lap. She was here. It wasn't a dream or a fantasy, no, this was real. She was with him, smiling at him. Touching him. He realized how good it felt to be with her. His wife. He smiled and opened his eyes again, squeezing her hand before placing it on his heart.

Joseph took her hand and guided her to their bed. He sat down on it and held his arms up for Clarisse to join him. She lowered herself onto the mattress and waited for her husband. He leaned closer to her and brushed his lips against hers before getting her to lie down using only light kisses. She looked up and saw the desire in his eyes. Clarisse knew that she had the same look in her eyes and felt young and desirable again. She wanted Joseph and now that she was married with him she had no reason to hide her feelings anymore.

He looked deep into her eyes and saw the desire in them. Lips touching, Joseph feathered his hand down to rest gently on her waist. He did not want to move things too fast but enjoy being with the woman he had loved for most of his life.

He started out with gently kissing her lips while his hand roamed up and down her side. Being bold Clarisse brought her own hands up and felt the muscles of his back tense as her hands wandered over his shirt and then beneath it, lifting it off his body and exposing his flesh. Joseph, taking her hands in his, lightly restrained them above her head, smiled at her when she tried to remove them. Clarisse knew that he would be gentle and she trusted him with her body and her love.

"Trust me", Joseph whispered and nipped at her lips.

He leaned over her and kissed her forehead before raining kisses down her neck. For every button of her blouse he opened Joseph would place a kiss and linger giving her time to decide whether she wanted him to stop or not. Clarisse allowed her eyes to flutter close as Joseph continued to unbutton her blouse. She freed her left hand and ran it over his head. She could feel him all around her and sucked in her breath when Joseph released the button clasping the cotton to her breasts.

Keeping his eyes on hers, Joseph exposed her shoulders. He leaned down and nipped at the exposed flesh but kept the fabric covering her breasts closed. He lightly kissed her warmed flesh and enjoyed the taste of her. She was everything he ever wanted.

Clarisse removed her hand from his head and freed her other from his grasp and pulled her blouse down for him to see her. Joseph kissed each scar on her chest and then placed his ear over her heart and listened to her strong heart beat. Clarisse took a long deep breath and laced her hand with his again. Joseph placed a tender loving kiss over her scars again and rested his head against them.

Joseph leaned down and kissed his wife tenderly as he opened the clasp of her bra, ravishing her breast with his lips and tongue. One of his hands moved down to unbutton and unzip her skirt before pulling it down together with her panties. Suddenly he withdrew from Clarisse to stand up and remove the rest of his clothing quickly. Then he settled his body over hers and put most of his weight on his forearms. The feel of her flesh on his made him want her more.

Clarisse kissed him again, harder this time. Her heart was beating so fast that she couldn't believe how she felt for this man. She raked her nails down his back and felt the muscles react to her touch.

Clarisse moved her hands up to frame the side of his face. His breath came in short bursts as she feathered her hands around his neck. She pulled him back so her lips could taste his. The fire coursed through his blood and called to the primitive side of his nature that demanded he claim his woman. She saw the need reflected in his eyes and arched her back.

"I want you", she groaned and gasped when she felt Joseph graze her nipple lightly with his teeth.

She relaxed as Joseph kissed his way down her body while removing the garter and her silk stockings. He nipped his way back up to her lips. His flesh warmed hers and he waited for her to tell him that she was ready. Suddenly he rolled so that she was on top and staring down at him. Joseph cupped Clarisse's face just as she had done to him and guided her up and over him. He stroked through her soft hair, relishing in the silky feel of it. His hands then ran over her shoulders and rested on her back. The coolness of her skin amazed him even though she was flushed.

Just as Clarisse had become accustomed to being on top Joseph reversed their positions and waited a beat before entering her. Clarisse gasped at the sudden contact but recovered quickly. She laced one hand with his and waited to become comfortable with him inside her. He levered himself up on his forearms to take some of the weight off her. Joseph shifted once and groaned at the feel of her around him. He was careful not to move to fast till she wanted him to.

"Clarisse", he gasped.

"Yes", she said and wrapped her other arm around his shoulder and felt him begin to move. She loved him so much. His body fit with hers so well that it was almost as if he was made for her.

She felt good. Soft and warm, just like he had always imagined and better then the night before. He pushed into her again while his mouth covered hers in another passionate kiss.

Clarisse locked her legs behind him, pulling him closer against her. It was even better than she remembered, the sheer knowledge of having him inside of her made her skin burn, the feeling of his hot flesh moving against hers, the way he held her, made her realize how much she had needed him. Her eyes were closed when they broke their kiss, both breathing rapidly, his forehead pressed to hers as he quickened his movements, her moans getting louder with every thrust.

Joseph felt his climax build while he enjoyed the feel of her smooth skin against his loin. He felt the muscles in her thighs tighten while he thrust into her again and again. The smell of Chanel No. 5 mingled with her own special scent was forever embedded in his mind. How he had needed it. How he had needed her.

He wanted to show her just how much and he would.

Her breath tickled his neck when she tightened her embrace. Burying his face in her hair, he moaned her name, almost sorry when he couldn't stop himself from coming.

The moment she felt his release spilling into her, Clarisse came for the second time. She tightened her arms and legs around him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder while waves of pleasure soared through her body, leaving her gasping for air. She felt him leaning into her and smiled against his shoulder while still trying to calm her breathing.

Lifting her head up, she brushed her cheek against his, taking in a deep breath, enjoying the familiar smell, she brought her lips close to his ear.

"I love you so much," she whispered softly, kissing the spot right under his earlobe. Her comment made him chuckle, causing his body to shake slightly. Turning his head, he kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Clarisse Elizondo," he whispered back, satisfied that he had finally marked her as his.


	7. When Relative Come to Visit

_A./N.: HI everyone. I'm a little late but still Merry Christams to all!! :) This chapter is pitifully short compared to the last one but I reveal Joe's secret (FINALLY! ;) ). Be warned it's a cliff hanger. Muhahahahaha. Next one should be up in no time. Still in this year definitely_. ;) Enjoy and please leave me a review.

LG ANDREA

7. When Relatives Come to Visit

Clarisse stood in her office by the window, overlooking her gardens with a happy smile on her lips. She was holding her left hand cradled lovingly against her chest.

She understood what the ring on her finger really meant. Joseph had put his mark on her, showing to the world that she was taken. The ring intended for Mia couldn't bring the same meaning across, not for Joseph and not for her.

With a happy smile playing across her lips, she looked down on her hand and felt again the delightful feeling of freedom, happiness and love. She had woken up this morning and quietly sat down at her vanity table. Then she had taken off the ring Rupert had given her all those years ago and tucked it away into one of the table's tiny drawers, finally closing the door to her past and opening the one for her future as Joseph's wife. Rupert's ring had never felt like a token of love and a sign for all to see that she really and truly belonged to that man but rather like a heavy manacle, chaining her fate irrevocably with his.

Now she was married to the man of _her_ choice and she wanted everyone to see that she was his.

----

Joseph sat in the Security Room and went over a few ground rules with Shades while waiting for his wife to finish her day's work. Grinning to himself, he wondered about the irony of the situation. Everything yet nothing had really changed since their wedding. He was free to love her in front of others and not needing to hide their love but yet he was still very much engrossed in his work of guarding her life while she slaved away in the name of Genovia.

Suddenly he was drawn out of his thoughts by Lionel, who had a message from Princess Mia for Shades. The young woman requested his help in the planning of the security details on the Coronation Day.

Shades quickly cast a glance to Joseph and asked him silently for permission to leave. Joseph chuckled lightly and nodded to his second in command.

"You will be the Head of Security by next week so you don't have to ask my permission for anything anymore," he answered Shades kindly.

As soon as Shades had left the office, Joseph leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a bit. 'Just a short nap', he thought to himself, 'just a few minutes before I ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.'

Drifting off to sleep, Joseph immediately dreamed of his Clarisse. _She wore the most gorgeous dress he had ever seen on her before. It was a simple black gown that reached just to the floor. The neckline lay perfectly across her collarbone and revealed just a hint of her shoulders. Even from across the room he could tell that she was wearing the pendant necklace he'd give her on her fiftieth birthday, a surprise he'd found one morning in Florence while walking along the Arno on his free day during yet another state visit. Watching transfixed as Clarisse made her way through a maze of people, the gown gliding elegantly with her, fitted enough to accentuate her shape yet still able to move with her as she gracefully flowed around the room, Joe couldn't take his eyes off her._

_It only took a second for the assassin to approach her and get a clear shot. Exactly the second Joe was distracted by admiring her dress and how well it suited her figure, wondering briefly what lay underneath. _

_Frozen in place Joe by sheer shock was unable to come to her aide. Helplessly he was forced to watch as the madman pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at Clarisse's chest, point-blank at her heart._

_Time seemed to slow almost to a complete halt as Joe lurched forward. He saw the bullet leave the gun's barrel. In excruciating slowness he dragged his legs to throw himself between the bullet and its potential victim. He was moving to slow, dragging his feet forward painfully. With horror he saw as the bullet embedded itself into her alabaster skin. Blood immediately began pouring out of the wound and Clarisse dropped to the floor with a terrified scream on her lips._

_Just as he heard his l__ove cry out Joe found his own voice and a scream of fear ripped free from his throat, drowning out all other sounds. Stumbling forward, he dropped to his knees beside her and cradled her limb body in his arms._

"BOSS! BOSS? WAKE UP, JOE!"

Slowly Shades' voice reached his ears and made it through his muddled brain to register. Opening his eyes with a snap, Joe frantically searched the room for any sign of his beloved Clarisse. Not seeing her anywhere, he began to panic and lunged to his feet. Before he could go far though, Shades placed a reassuring yet restraining hand against his chest and pushed him back into his chair.

"Joe, what's the matter?" he asked quietly, waving Lionel out of the room.

Joseph dragged his hands across his face and over his bald head. Forcing himself to breathe deeply in and out, he gradually calmed down ... enough to answer Scott anyway.

"Nothing, my friend," he mumbled, "I'm alright. Just a ... just a bad dream."

Scott eyed his former boss suspiciously but also knew that he would get nothing out of him unless Joe wanted to share what had frightened him. Knowing Joe though, Scott risked a guess that it had something to do with Her Majesty.

"Don't bottle it up, man," he advised shrewdly and left it at that.

----

Joe quickly walked through the long corridors of the palace. His thoughts were racing ahead of him but he knew where he was going. Hundredths of times he had walked this route from his office to hers so that his feet were carrying him on their own.

Finally he entered her room silently and, as always, directed his gaze towards her desk but she wasn't seated there. A new fear gripped his heart but then he spotted her standing by the window. Her back was to him and she seemed oblivious to his presence.

"Finished with work?" he asked his wife, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her waist.

"Yes, I'm done for today," she assured him, snuggling against him, subconsciously snuggling her cold bottom into the warm hollow of his thighs. "You?"

"Mmmmm," he responded with a blissful groan, wrapping his arms tighter around her. "I dreamed of you," he admitted softly but decided to leave out the details.

"Oh?"

"Yes, but let's discuss that in the ... privacy of our suite, shall we?" he asked, grinning devilishly while nibbling her ear suggestively.

"Mmmmm ... We shall," she answered him, more than eager to follow his lead.

----

"Now this is what I had in mind," he said, and set his teeth gently in the flesh of her shoulder. "That and ..."

They were both laying in their bed, already half undressed. Suddenly though his words were interrupted by his stomach, which rumbled audibly.

"Hungry?" she asked softly, trying to stifle the chuckle bubbling up inside her.

"Mmmmm ... for you or food?" he asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Then his stomach growled again and he had to laugh himself. "Probably both," he amended.

"So long as you don't confuse the two," she said, twitching her shoulder out of his reach.

"I can tell a sweet ... somewhat plump lady from a salt-cured ham ... appearances notwithstanding," he assured her. He grabbed her buttocks with both hands and squeezed, making her yelp and kick.

"Beast!"

"Oh, a beast, is it?" he said, laughing. "Well, then ..."

Growling deep in his throat, he dived under the blanket and proceeded to nip and nibble his way up the insides of her thighs, blithely ignoring her squeaks and the hail of light slaps on his back and shoulders. Dislodged by their struggles, the blanket slid off onto the floor, revealing Clarisse's bunched-up skirts and Joe's head between her thighs.

"Perhaps there's less difference than I thought," he said, his head popping up between her legs as he paused for breath. He pressed her thighs flat against the mattress and grinned up at Clarisse. "You do taste a bit salty, come to try it."

He was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing again quietly. Startled, both turned to look if the door to their bedroom was closed and froze ...

The door stood wide open. Neither of them had anticipated a disturbance. Frozen in place, Clarisse forgot to breathe. Joe, though, acted instantly and instinctively. Throwing the blanket over Clarisse, he got up and tried to shield her from the intruder's eyes.

And then they heard a female voice.

"Daddy? Are you here? ... You told me to come here and that you would tell Her Majesty now."

Clarisse gasped.


	8. Joseph's Secret

8. Joseph's Secret

"Daddy?" Clarisse said blankly. "_Daddy_?"

Joseph had turned to stone when he heard the voice of his daughter. Now he shot forward, snatching at his fallen shirt. He rubbed over his bald crown, and stared helplessly at the door.

"I'm in here," he rasped out and was about to close the door. "Give me a moment to talk to Clarisse, Megan."

By the time he turned around again, Clarisse was sitting on the edge of the bed, fumbling with shaking hands as she tried to pull her stockings on and fasten them to the garter again.

"I can explain it to you, Clarisse," he said.

"I d-don't think so," she said. Her lips were numb, along with the rest of her, and it was hard to form words. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet as she tried – and failed – to tie her garters.

"Listen to me!" he said loudly, causing Clarisse to jump.

She jerked her head up, and caught a glimpse of him towering over her. Never before had he looked at her that way, and it slightly terrified her. For a moment he reminded her of Rupert and she shrunk back from him. Then she turned away to look for her blouse. It was lost in the bedclothes. She scrabbled about among the sheets. A considerable pounding had started in her temples and she felt sick.

"You'd best go and see to your daughter," she said, pulling the crumpled silk on over her shoulders.

"She is fine, but we should talk."

"She is." Her head came up again, and she lifted her chin to stare up at him. "And I suppose you already told her about us?"

"Yes, I did. I tried to tell you ..."

"Oh, really? She can talk and she didn't sound like a small child. How old is she? In her teens? And you never found the time or opportunity to tell me?"

She felt very cold. Her stiff fingers couldn't manage the buttons of her blouse. She left them open, and stood up to look for her jacket, which was somewhere on the other side of the room – behind Joseph.

"I need my jacket."

"You're not going anywhere, corazón. Not until ..."

"Don't call me that!" she shrieked it, surprising both of them. He stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

"All right," he said quietly.

He glanced at the door, now closed. He drew a deep breath and straightened, squaring his shoulders.

"I'll go and settle things. Then we'll talk, the two of us. Stay here, cora – Clarisse." He picked up his own jacket and yanked it on. Unlocking the door, he stepped out into the silent corridor and closed it behind him.

----

Clarisse managed to pick up the dress, then collapsed on the bed and sat shaking all over, the mint-green jacket crumpled across her knees.

She couldn't think in a straight line. Her mind spun in small circles around the central fact; he had a child. He had a child and never told her about it! He had a family and yet he had pursued her and broken down the walls she had created around her heart. Now her heart was broken into smaller pieces than ever before.

"Oh, Joseph!" she said aloud. "Oh God, Joseph!" and began to cry – partly from shock, partly at the thought of her lost love. It wasn't logical, but this discovery seemed a betrayal of her far worse than the adultery of Rupert – or his daughter.

The thought of that girl turned shock and sorrow to rage in a moment. Clarisse rubbed a fold of her green jacket savagely across her face, leaving the skin red and prickly.

Damn him! How dare you? If he had a family already, thinking her unreachable, that was one thing. She had half-expected, half-feared it. She had always known that he was a sought-out bachelor, admired by many women for his though exterior but gentle soul. She had always dreaded to find out he had found a woman to settle down with and have children. And now it seemed that he had. But not to tell her was more horrible when she had always loved him ... but he likely didn't know that, a small voice of reason in her head pointed out.

"Well, he _should_ have known!" she said aloud to the empty room. "Damn him to hell, how could he not have told me? I thought we were friends!"

The tears were rolling heedlessly down her face, hot spurts of loss and fury, and her nose was running. She groped for a handkerchief, found none, and in desperation, blew her nose at last on a corner of the sheet.

It smelled of Joseph. Worse, it smelled of the two of them, and the faint, musky smell of their pleasure. There was a small tingling spot on the inside of her thigh, where Joseph had nipped her, a few minutes before. Clarisse brought the flat of her hand down hard on the spot with a vicious slap, to kill the feeling.

"Liar!" she screamed.

She grabbed a pitcher from the side table and hurled it across the room. It crashed against the door in an explosion of splinters.

Clarisse stood in the middle of the room, listening. It was quiet. There was no sound from the door. No one was coming to see what had made the crash. She imagined they were all much too frightened to approach her now. The ladies Lovat and Jérôme certainly knew how angry she could be and had warned the others ... and Joseph was taking care of his daughter.

Did this girl live here, in Joseph's quarters? She recalled never having entered Joseph's rooms, presumably to hide his daughter from her. Even trying to think about it made her temple throb.

The act of violence had drained enough rage from Clarisse to be able once more to control her shaking fingers. She kicked her shoes into a corner, threw her jacket after them and turned to the wardrobe, putting on fresh clothes.

She had to get her act together again. That was the only half-coherent thought in her head, and she clung to it. She had to get it back together and make him leave. She couldn't be around him, not with a daughter in the palace. They belonged together – Clarisse didn't.

She managed to tie up her new garters this time, put on a new slip, fasten the hook on her fresh skirt, and find new shoes and a jacket. She wasted some time in reapplying her make-up. She pushed her fingers through her hair, but was too upset to look for a brush. The strands crackled with electricity from having the woollen slip pulled over her head, and she slapped irritably at the hair that stuck to her face.

Ready. Ready as she'd be, at least. She paused for one last look around, then heard footsteps coming up the stair. These were heavy, and slow, deliberate. She knew without seeing him that it was Joseph coming – and that he wasn't anxious to see her.

'Fine. I don't want to see him, either. What was there to say?'

She backed away as the door opened, unaware that she was moving, until her legs hit the edge of the bed. She lost her balance and sat down. Joseph paused in the doorway, looking down at her. He finally stepped into the room and closed the door. He stood awkwardly for a moment, then moved toward the bed, one hand extended toward her.

"Clarisse ..."

"Don't touch me!"

Clarisse leapt to her feet and backed away, circling toward the door. His hand fell to his side, but he stepped in front of her, blocking the way.

"Will you not let me explain, Clarisse?"

"It seems to be a little late for that," she said, in what she meant to be a cold, disdainful tone. Unfortunately, my voice shook.

He pushed the door to their bedroom shut behind him.

"You never used to be unreasonable," he said quietly.

"And don't tell me what I used to be!" The tears were much too near the surface, and she bit her lip to hold them back.

"All right." Joseph's face was very pale. "I'm not married to her mother and never were." He watched her closely, but Clarisse said nothing. He shrugged a little, settling the shirt on his shoulders, and went on. "It would have been a mistake – the marriage with Livvy."

"And what about your daughter? Don't you think she needs a father?" Clarisse burst out.

His lips pressed tight together.

"I didn't know I had a daughter until recently."

"Oh." It didn't make any real difference, but still, Clarisse felt a small wave of something like relief. He hadn't lied to her all those years, but why had he not told her immediately when he found out.

"It was just a one-night stand and I was drunk ..."

"You don't need to tell me," Clarisse interrupted. "It doesn't make any difference. Let me by, please ... I need to be alone."

His brows drew sharply together.

"Where are you going?"

"To the gardens. My office. I don't know – let me by!"

"You aren't going anywhere," he said definitely.

"You can't stop me!"

He reached out and grabbed her by both arms.

"Yes, I can," he said. He could: Clarisse jerked furiously, but couldn't budge the iron grip on her biceps.

"Let go of me this minute!"

"No, I won't!" Joseph glared at her, eyes narrowed, and Clarisse suddenly realized that calm as he might seem outwardly, he was very nearly as upset as she was. She saw the muscles of his throat move as he swallowed, controlling himself enough to speak again. "I won't let you go until I've explained to you, why ..."

"What is there to explain?" she demanded furiously. "You have a daughter! What else is there? A son, as well?"

The colour was rising in his face; the tips of his ears were already red, a sure sign of impending fury.

"And have you lived a nun for the thirty-five years we know each other?" he demanded, shaking her slightly. "Have you?"

"No!" Clarisse flung the word at his face, and he flinched slightly. "No, I haven't! And I don't think you've been a monk, either – I never did! But I was married!"

"Yes, you were married and I had to live with the knowledge that this bastard bedded you! Then ..." he began, but she was much too furious to listen anymore.

"You lied to me, damn you!"

"I never did!" The skin was stretched tight over his cheekbones, as it was when he was very angry indeed.

"You did, you spineless worm! You know you did! Let go!" She kicked him sharply in the shin, hard enough to numb her toes. He exclaimed in pain, but didn't let go. Instead, he squeezed harder, making her yelp.

"I never said a thing to you ..."

"No, you didn't! But you lied, anyway! You let me think you were free, that there wasn't anyone, that you – that you -" She was half-sobbing with rage, gasping between words. "You should have told me, the minute you found out! Why didn't you tell me?" Joseph's grip on her arms slackened, and she managed to wrench herself free. He took a step toward her, eyes glittering with fury. She wasn't afraid of him; she drew back her fist and hit him in the chest.

"Why?" she shrieked, hitting him again and again and again, the sound of the blows thudding against his chest. "Why, why, _why_!"

"Because I was afraid!" Joseph got hold of her wrists and threw her backward, so she fell across the bed. He stood over her, fists clenched, breathing hard. "I am a coward, damn you! I couldn't tell you, for fear you would leave me, and the unmanly thing that I am, I thought I couldn't bear that!"

"Unmanly? With a daughter? HA!"

Clarisse really thought he would slap her; he raised his arm, but then his open palm clenched into a fist.

"Am I a man? To want you so badly that nothing else matters? To see you, and know I would sacrifice honour or my job or life itself to be with you, even though you were my Queen and married?"

"You have the unmitigated gall to say such a thing to me?" Her voice was so high, it came out as a thin and vicious whisper. "You blame _me_?"

Joseph stopped then, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

"No. No, I can't blame you in all fairness." He turned aside, blindly. "How could it have been your fault? You were trapped in a loveless marriage ... but you wanted to leave him for me if the boys hadn't been born."

"I did, the more fool I," Clarisse said. "_You_ reminded me of the duty I had, still have, to my country. And now you what to blame me for staying with Rupert?"

Joseph turned back to her, eyes dark with desperation.

"I had to make you stay with him! I had to, for the country's sake!" His eyes went involuntarily to her left hand where now his ring sat. He took one deep, quivering breath, and calmed himself with a visible effort. "No," he said, much more quietly. "I can't regret that, whatever the cost. I would have given my life, for you. If it took my heart and soul, too ..."

"Whatever the cost? Whatever the cost! Do you know what it is to live twenty years without a heart? Do you think I went back to Rupert and lived happily ever after? It was hell! Rupert cheated on me and wasn't the gentlest husband one could wish for! You know that! You heard it!!"

Clarisse kicked at him as hard as she could. Joseph flinched, but didn't let go.

"Sometimes I hoped I misheard and that you were happy," he said, speaking through clenched teeth. "And then I saw it – him with you, day and night, lying with you, taking your body, holding my love! And God, I could kill you for it!"

Suddenly, he dropped her hands, whirled, and smashed his fist through the side of the oak armoire. It was an impressive blow; the armoire was a sturdy piece of furniture. It must have bruised his knuckles considerably, but without hesitation, he drove the other fist into the oak boards as well, as though the shining wood were Rupert's face – or hers.

"Feel like that about it, do you?" Clarisse said coldly, as he stepped back, panting. "I don't even have to imagine you with that Livvy – I've _seen_ the proof for it!"

"I didn't care a fig for Livvy, and never have!"

"Joseph!" she said again. "You would sleep with a woman without wanting her, and then throw her aside the minute ..."

"Shut up!" he roared. "Hold your tongue, you wicked woman!" He slammed a fist down on her vanity table, glaring at her. "I love you, damn it!"

"You should have told me!"

"And if I had?" He grabbed her hand and jerked her to her feet, holding her eye to eye with him. "You would have turned me down again and again ... as you have as a matter of fact. I tell you, I would have done far worse than lie to keep you!"

"Yes, I would have never married you!" Clarisse screamed at him.

"Why? Doesn't it matter that I love you more than anyone in the world?"

"You have a daughter ..."

"You have two sons!" Joseph interrupted her furiously.

"That is different!" she retorted irrationally.

"How?" he demanded

"Because ..." she answered evasively.

"HOW?" he roared, making it clear that he demanded an answer from her.

"Because you have the daughter I LOST!" she screamed at the top off her lungs.

Then her hands flew up to her mouth and she clasped them down, shocked by her own words.

"What?" Joseph's voice was just above a whisper, tender and low of sympathy and love, anger forgotten. "Oh Clarisse."

He pressed her tight against his body and kissed her, long and hard. Clarisse's knees turned to water, and she fought to keep her feet.

"This is senseless," she said, pulling away. Fury had its own intoxication, but the hangover was setting in fast, a black dizzy vortex. Her head swam so that she could hardly keep her balance. "I can't think straight. I have to be alone."


	9. Old Wounds

9. Old Wounds

Clarisse walked aimlessly through her gardens, not seeing the lovely colours of her roses. The scent of their full blossoms normally calmed her no matter what the situation. The only other time her garden had not provided peace and calm, or comfort had been the day Clarisse found out about Phillipe's death.

Miserably she noted that the sun was burning down on her and the roses around her were in full bloom, begging her to step closer to them and sniff their delicious perfume. Clarisse paid heed to nothing but her inner turmoil. A stormy night with freezing rain and lightning would have suited her mood better than this sunny paradise. But since when was anything in her life as it seemed.

_"You have the unmitigated gall to say such a thing to me?" Her voice was so high, it came out as a thin and vicious whisper. "You blame me?"_

_Joseph stopped then, chest heaving as he caught his breath._

_ "No. No, I can't blame you in all fairness." He turned aside, blindly. "How could it have been your fault? You were trapped in a loveless marriage ... but you wanted to leave him for me if the boys hadn't been born."_

_ "I did, the more fool I," Clarisse said. "You reminded me of the duty I had, still have, to my country. And now you what to blame me for staying with Rupert?"_

The words resounded in her very soul. How dare he insinuate that it all had been her fault? How dare he tell her to the face that she had put their relationship on hold? She clenched her fists and tightened her jaw. She was more hurt than ever before. Her insides were twisting and churning. No tears escaped her eyes even though they were red and burning.

With the words of their recent fight still on her mind she remembered their last fight on that particular subject.

_"Duty? You talk about "duty"?" Clarisse all but yelled at Joseph, standing on the opposite side of her desk, glaring at her. She was pacing angrily back and forth. Had he not understood her? Had she not made clear that she wanted to leave Rupert and return to France with him, Joseph, by her side?_

_"When duty and safety are served by the same ends, then, yes, I do!" Joseph answered evenly, trying to maintain his cool. _

_"I cannot believe you're saying this. You, who I've relied on all this time?" _

_Her voice shook, betraying her hurt feelings and deep desperation._

_"Have I ever lied before?" he asked her, beginning to get angry himself._

_ "You stand there and tell me it is my duty! After all you promised me?"_

_ "I've broken no promise! I love you and I always will but you have to stay by the King's side, for all our sakes."_

_"You're forcing me to do the very thing you know I'd fear most," she whimpered, hugging herself. "Please, don't make me go back to him."_

_"For God's sake, Clarisse, I'm trying to see you safe! You will always be a Queen of Genovia and people, especially the press, will never stop following you. I can't protect you outside the palace!"_

_"I will not hear any more about my safety! You made me a promise, and now you've broken it!" she yelled, anger flaring again._

_ "When I guided you to all those public events, come rain or shine, because I knew it was my job and I would even do it without being paid, when I got the princes off your back just to give you a bit of peace, when I saw you safe from home to home when you didn't even know if I was there, all I ever thought about was you!"_

_Now he yelled at her as well, angry with her and himself. All he wanted to do was to shake her, very hard, until she would come to her senses. And now she just made it worse._

_"Then why send me back to Rupert?"_

_ "Because I have to!" he yelled. _

_Silence descended over both like a sheet while they stared at each other. Clarisse's eyes shone with tears as she stood trembling behind her desk. Joseph stood at the other side with his hands braced on her desk. "Will you not listen to me, Clarisse?"_

_"Do not presume to talk to your Queen in that manner," she said very quietly with a steely note to her voice. _

_Her eyes were distant, with the Queen facade over them once more. As she left the room without looking back once, Joseph stared after her with defeat in his own eyes._

With her thoughts focused on her memories and her eyes unseeing, blinded by tears once more, her body had moved on its own accord. Her feet had carried Clarisse to a little cemetery tugged away behind the palace's luxurious gardens and far away from any visitor's prying eyes. When she finally emerged from her thoughts, she was more than disturbed to find herself in front of her daughter's grave.

It was a small stone, made of a soft white marble. A pair of cherub's wings spread out across the top, sheltering the single word that was the stone's only other decoration. "Hope" it read.

Clarisse stood looking down at it until her vision blurred. She knelt down and laid her hand on the stone, stroking the curve of one wing with a finger, as though it were a baby's cheek.

The Archbishop saw his Queen kneel in front of her daughter's small grave. The Queen's relationship with her bodyguard Joseph might have been an open secret but only very few people knew of the Queen's miscarriage. She had been only four months pregnant when it had happened. Since she was always slim, even in pregnancy, she had just started to show a little and she had had decided with the King to announce it the following day during the celebrations of Rupert's coronation anniversary. Slowly he came over to her but she didn't notice his presence.

Clarisse was once more lost in her dark recollections. Her eyes were overshadowed and blank, set in a face as pale as snow.

_Clarisse lay in bed and was dreaming of her child. Today she had found out that she carried a little girl inside her. Her unborn daughter kicked and heaved in Clarisse's slightly swollen belly. Clarisse'__s hands went to the mound, massaging the stretched skin, trying to quiet the turmoil within. But the squirming went on. Clarisse suddenly doubled, drawing up her knees as pain washed over her. Her skin was hot to the touch, and her intestines coiled._

_ "Clarisse! Wake up! What's wrong?" The shaking and calling roused her at last to a fuzzy apprehension of her surroundings. She was still in bed, and it was Rupert's hand on her shoulder, and the linen sheets over her. But the pains continued, and she moaned loudly, the sound alarming her almost as much as it did Rupert._

_He flung back the sheets and rolled her onto her back, trying to push her knees down. Clarisse stayed stubbornly rolled into a ball, clutching her stomach, trying to contain the pangs of sharp agony that stabbed through her._

_Rupert yanked the blanket back over her and rushed out of their suite, barely pausing to snatch his dressing gown from the stool._

_Clarisse had little attention to spare for anything other than her inner turmoil. Her ears were ringing, and a cold sweat soaked her face._

_ "Your Majesty? Your Majesty?"_

_She opened her eyes enough to see her maid, eyes frantic and hair awry, bending over the bed. Rupert, in his pyjamas and still more frantic, was behind her. Clarisse shut her eyes, groaning, but not before she saw him grab the maid by the shoulder, hard enough to shake her curls loose from her braid._

_ "Is she losing the child? Is she?"_

_It was extremely likely. Clarisse twisted on the bed, grunting, and doubled tighter, as though to protect the burden of pain she contained._

_There was an increasing babble of voices in the room, mostly female, and a number of hands poked and prodded at her. Clarisse heard a male voice speaking amid the babble, not Rupert. At the voice's direction, a number of hands fastened themselves to her ankles and shoulders and stretched her flat upon the bed. _

_A hand reached under her nightdress and probed her belly. Clarisse opened her eyes, panting, and saw Monsieur Flèche, the Royal Physician, kneeling by the bed as he frowned in concentration. The character of the pain seemed to be changing; while it grew stronger in spasms, it was more or less constant, and yet it seemed to be moving, travelling from somewhere high up in her abdomen to a lower spot. _

_ "Is she losing my child?" roared Rupert once again._

_Monsieur Flèche turned his head upwards to his King and nodded gravely._

_ "I'm afraid so, Your Majesty. We should get Her Majesty to the hospital as soon as possible."_

_The pain increased once more, a vice squeezing Clarisse's insides, and she gasped and doubled up once more. As it eased a bit, she opened her eyes and saw the concerned look on the Doctor's face and Rupert's furious glance at her. And then she blacked out._

The Archbishop stood now directly behind Clarisse. He slowly reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder, jerking her out of her misery. Quickly she wiped away her tears and looked up to him, still bleary-eyed.

"I thought I wouldn't cry", she said a little later.

She felt the weight of the Archbishop's hand on her head now, as though in benediction. Clarisse took a deep breath and wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.

"It was a long time ago, anyway."

She rose slowly to her feet and turned to find the Archbishop watching her with an expression of deep sympathy and interest.

"I have found out", he said slowly, "that time does not really exist for mothers, with regard to their children. It does not matter greatly how old the child is – in the blink of an eye, they can see it again as it was when it was born, when it learned to walk, as it was at any age – and they always will, even when it is fully grown and a parent itself. Especially when they're asleep", he went on, looking down at the little white stone himself. "You can always see the baby then."

Clarisse blew her nose and they turned back along the path to the palace. As they walked slowly back, she noticed all the other stones. It was heartbreaking to think of all the lives which had been stomped out. The headstone on Phillipe's grave brought yet again new tears to her eyes and she felt the Archbishop's hand gently touching her arm.

"You might wish to confide in me, ma'am?" he asked diplomatically.

Clarisse bowed her head and refused to speak at first but her need to confide in someone was stronger. She knew the Archbishop for many, many years now and he was sworn the secrecy. He may be a man of the church but he was not a typical catholic priest. He showed more understanding and sympathy for human nature and behaviour. Clarisse had always confided in him about her horrible marriage and growing feelings for Joseph.

Carefully glancing up to him from under her eyelashes, she recalled the small conversation they had had over Joseph after Rupert's death and her visit to San Francisco.

_"My husband tried always to make me think more subtly. Of course, he taught me so much, and I can never repay my debt to him … or the ... friendship I feel now. But in truth, I think I am someone … who can only feel things … when they are alive to me. And for that reason, I know I do not have a subtle mind. I know that. But I work hard, and I … try to do my duty. However, I have noticed of late … that … my feelings of grief … are not so strong, and I find myself leaning more … on the comfort of living friends. Friends close to me now," she whispered, sitting in front of the altar of the small chapel. _

_"Your Majesty, a settled resignation … is more lasting proof of affection than active grief. If the Good Lord sees fit to bring one into contact with … congenial fellow beings, one need not analyze one's reaction too deeply. To allow oneself to be comforted by someone else need not imply disloyalty to the memory of the loved one," he answered softly, choosing every word carefully._

Unknowingly – or perhaps fully aware of it – the Archbishop had settled her mind and given his blessing for the starting relationship between her and Joseph. Now she only felt it natural to trust him with the latest developments.

"Joseph and I had a ... a fight," she admitted, feeling incredibly stupid using the same words teenagers used for describing their bouts. It had been so much more ... and so much more horrible. "It ... we ... I ..." Clarisse was stuttering and she knew it. Clamping her mouth shut, she stared helplessly down on her shoes, fighting back tears over her fight with Joseph and her inadequacy to explain it properly.

"Just take a deep breath, Your Majesty. We can talk when you have calmed down," the old man said kindly, smiling at his sovereign.

Clarisse felt like a young girl being talked down to. Her cheeks flamed angrily and she swallowed the tirade threatening to spill from her lips.

"Joseph has a daughter and I just found out."

It came all tumbling out of her in a rush. As soon as the words were out Clarisse felt slightly better. The words had lost some of their stupefying effect. Breathing deeply in and out, she tried to calm herself down again and gather enough strength to look up into the Archbishop's eyes.

"I ... I see," the man mumbled, somewhat thrown. It was obvious that he had expected something else, something with less impact. "How old is she?" he asked the only logical question coming to mind. He couldn't imagine Joseph building a family with anyone else than Clarisse.

"I don't know really," Clarisse had to admit, realizing suddenly that she had not given him any change to really explain anything and tell her about his daughter. But then again the news had been too shocking. "She sounded like a teenager."

The Archbishop released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding slowly.

"So it was well before your relationship really started?" he asked carefully.

He was well aware of the fact that he had no idea when their affaire had really started or how far the two had gone before their impromptu wedding. Knowing Clarisse, though, he was sure to assume that she hadn't been intimate with Joseph before the wedding night. She was a typical catholic girl of her generation.

"He lied to me! He never told me he had a daughter!" she insisted, anger rising once more at the betrayal of the only man she ever truly loved.

The Archbishop sighed deeply.

"Your ... Clarisse, I might be out of my league here ... but I can't imagine Joseph holding back that information from you for years. When did he find out about his child?"

"He says it was 'recently'," Clarisse replied sarcastically, making it blatantly clear that she didn't believe Joseph's words. "But ..."

"Clarisse," the Archbishop said warningly. "Why don't you believe him?"

Clarisse snorted most un-ladylike and threw back her head in a defiant gesture.

"He fooled around and didn't know he fathered a child. Oh please!"

The Archbishop was surprised beyond words at the unusual behaviour of the Queen. She was not behaving like the rational thinking Queen of Genovia but rather like an impetuous, betrayed house-wife. Taking a deep breath, he launched into a stern speech.

"I think you should talk to him. Joseph doesn't strike me as a liar and I'm sure he has an explanation. After all you swore to love and honour him till death do you part. Don't you want to give him a chance? Don't give up on your marriage ..."

"... and be yet again trapped in a marriage full of lies," Clarisse ended his sentence for him. "No, I won't do the same mistake twice. I will however go back and tell him exactly what I think of him and how I feel about his betrayal."

With that she stormed off, leaving the Archbishop standing in the middle of the gardens. Rounding the corner of a hedge, Clarisse suddenly came face to face with a young girl. She was sitting on the rim of a fountain with a crumpled handkerchief in her hand and tears still streaming down her face.


	10. Confiding

10. Confiding

Clarisse stopped dead in her tracks and only stared. She didn't know that child and yet she seemed familiar.

The girl had the same brown hair Joseph had had before it bowed to age and gave away to his balding crown. But Joseph's hair had been straight. The girl's hair curled in every possible direction, happy to soak in the damp air from the fountain and to tangle itself into knots. Clarisse could see her profile and noticed a delicate pointed nose quite unlike Joseph's broader nose. Subconsciously Clarisse drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, the hair colour was just a coincidence. But then her gaze fell on the girl's mouth. She had the same full, sensuous lips as Joseph and a broad smile, even though the one on display was tinged with sadness and a disturbing sense of resignation. Her eyes were averted but Clarisse somehow knew, without even looking at them, that they had Joseph's shape and the same soft brown colour.

Clarisse could also imagine the expression in them. Only once had she see Joseph close to tears and that had been when he had to tell her that her youngest son had died. Never before or after had she seen such deep emotions in a set of eyes. All the Parliamentarians and dignitaries had empty eyes ... and worst Rupert had had empty eyes whenever they looked at her. Joseph, though, had shared her heartache with her and expressed both his own devastation and his silent comfort. Clarisse was sure that the girl's eyes would hold a similar expression ... minus the comfort.

It was too much! Seeing the evidence for the truth of Joseph's words, was more than Clarisse could handle. Her throat constricted and at the same time a horrible scream seemed to force its way up her throat. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth while her eyes were wide open in horror.

So many times had she imagined to carry Joseph's child in her. So many times she had begged God on hands and knees to somehow free her from Rupert and give her the chance to start a new family with Joseph and her two boys. So many times had she cried herself to sleep, dreaming of her lost child and how it would have felt in her arms.

Being now confronted with all that again, simply through the presence of ... that girl ... she had to get away from that child. Clarisse whipped around on her heels and wanted to disappear behind the next hedge and run until she found a secluded spot where she could lick her wounds. She took only one step back around the hedge before bumping into the soft presence of another person.

The scream tore from her chest and throat.

A startled scream from the fountain answered hers followed immediately by a loud splashing sound.

"Your Majesty! I'm so sorry to have startled you," the gentle voice of the Archbishop reached Clarisse's ears. "I followed you in case you needed more moral support ... I was right it seems. Talk to the girl. You cannot run away now."

"Just watch me," Clarisse snarled in reply. For the first time in her life she felt her composure slip and her temper taking over. She was in no mood to be polite or even remotely calm anymore. The sight of Joseph's daughter hurt worse than a knife in her heart might.

Pushing past the shocked Archbishop, Clarisse bounded around the hedge's corner and out of sight. She hastened along one path, leading further into her gardens, away from the palace.

"Your Majesty?" a voice called out to her and Clarisse groaned in despair.

Why couldn't she be left alone for once and try to digest the news in peace? Who was she that everyone came to her to solve their problems? Did they really think she had NO problems of her own?

But years of service to her country and its people let her slow down. Half-expecting Charlotte or one of her underlings to catch up to herself, Clarisse worked hard to put on her professional mask of polite interest. When she finally turned around, she felt it slip from her face faster than it had taken her to put it there. Instead of coming face to face with one of her employees Clarisse suddenly found herself staring at the girl from the fountain.

Contrary to her earlier believe the girl's eyes weren't dark brown like Joseph's but rather amber-coloured. At the moment they flashed slightly impatient ... an expression Clarisse had seen multiple times in Joseph's, for example when Parliament tried to undermine her authority ... but he was better at hiding it than his daughter was.

With agony in her own eyes Clarisse again made to turn around, away from the source for her agony.

"Please don't go away," the girl's voice quavered. "Let me explain ..."

"I don't see what you want to explain to me," Clarisse said icily, holding her temper in check ... even though she knew it was a losing battle. "Your father," she spat the words out as if they were vile to the taste, "told me he loved me for all those years yet he build a family with another woman ..."

"They weren't married and he never knew about me," Megan interrupted, losing her fear for that formidable Queen to her anger on behalf of her father. "My mother wanted a baby but no husband. She had me and never ever considered to let him know because he might want to see his child or because I might need a father growing up."

"That doesn't change any..."

"It changes everything!"

Both the adult woman and the teen-aged girl were angrier than they had ever been before ... which was in Clarisse's case a much more impressive statement. They were flashing angry glares at each other and their postures were rigid.

The Archbishop was reduced to the role of spectator. He was not at all sure if he would survive if he got between the fronts. He could of course understand his sovereign and her feeling overwhelmed about the news of Joseph's child. On the other side he could all too clearly imagine a father-less childhood. He felt sorry for the girl and was also happy that she was finally able to get to know her father.

"There wasn't even love between them!"

It seemed that Megan was playing her last trump.

"If you think that makes me feel any better, you are sorely mistaken." Clarisse's voice was as cold as ice again. "What kind of man sleeps with a woman without loving her?" she asked haughtily before realising that she was talking about Rupert and finally understanding where part of her anger came from. She was deadly afraid that Joseph would now after their wedding show his true character and turn out to be as cold-hearted as Rupert had been.

"Look I know my coming here hurt you. My mere existence must hurt you. But this isn't easy for me either. I'm angry too. I grew up not knowing anything about my father. Who he was, what he was ... I wish you could just tell me something about my father and someday maybe even accept me. Whether you like it or not, I AM his daughter."

"Well, I DON'T like it!" Clarisse yelled and without another word she pushed past Joseph's daughter and the Archbishop.

She was stomping towards the palace. After all she was the Queen of Genovia and no child would drive her from the palace. She had to take control of this whole damnable situation. She hastened through the main doors and down one corridor. On her way to her office she bumped into another person.

This person shrieked in a high-pitched voice while desperately trying to maintain her balance. She panicky grasped at anything to keep her from falling as she stumbled on her high heels.

Clarisse felt two arms being wrapped forcefully around her neck and her back being bend under the weight of said person. Choking and spluttering, Clarisse now fought to maintain her own balance.

"I'm so sorry," announced a female voice Clarisse only knew too well.

"That is quite alright, Lillian," Clarisse managed to croak out.

"Your Majesty! Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Lady Jérôme gasped in horror, hastily straightening up.

Clarisse held up one hand to stop the lady to apologize over and over. She had other, more important things on her mind.

"It was my fault entirely," she acquiesced, looking along the corridor. She wanted to escape as soon as possible.

"Your Majesty? You obviously have a problem ... I'm sorry but it is ... well, obvious ... and ..." Lady Jérôme was stuttering now and looking at the floor herself. She was Clarisse's friend and confident but she had never forgotten that her opposite was in fact the Queen of Genovia.

"It's nothing," Clarisse tried to get away with this little white lie but Lillian just looked at her with a raised eyebrow

"C-Clarisse, please you have to confide in someone."

"That's what the Archbishop said, "she snapped, "and he was no real help either."

"Well, of course not. He is no woman."

"You can't help me with that," Clarisse muttered, heartbroken, hoping with all her heart that she was wrong and Lillian could actually help her.

"Just try me, Clarisse," Lillian encouraged her friend and found it much easier now to address her as an equal.

"Well, for starters Joseph lied to me all those years when he told me he loved me," Clarisse started her rant, "and he has a daughter. He never told me about her! ... I can't be with him right now ..."

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, but do you think you're behaving rationally," Lady Jérôme asked politely. "Let me tell you something."

Clarisse nodded her agreement.

"Jerôme is a Parliamentarian, travelling around all the time. We were married for 20 years already when I found out that he had had an affair with another woman. This woman one day showed up in front of my door, pregnant. Most of his so-called friends and fellow Parliamentarians thought it was a big joke. Of course some of the women pitied me."

"That must have hurt?"

"It hurt a lot. And it made me angry. I was so mad that I refused to make ... you know ... love for a year but I decided that one mistake shouldn't erase the memories of all the good times or how much we loved each other. Don't throw Joseph and your relationship with him away just because he made a mistake."

----

Clarisse was still contemplating Lillian's words when she walked in her library. She had decided to go nowhere Joseph would search for her automatically. A small table with two chairs was situated near the big panorama windows and Clarisse steered her footsteps towards it. Sitting down, she put her head into her hands and groaned in frustration. What Lillian had said had made sense. She had most assuredly not acted rationally or in control of the situation. Worst of all she had taken her anger for Joseph out on his daughter.

A faint rustling noise let her look up, wondering if Joseph had at last found her. When she looked up, she met Megan's eyes. Clarisse noticed her clothes were still slightly damp from her unwanted bath in the fountain. Good thing it was summer and the girl wouldn't catch a cold. Without a word the girl turned around and wanted to leave again. Not really thinking but rather acting on instinct, Clarisse called out to Megan.

"Please sit down," Clarisse motioned for Megan to sit beside her in one of the seats. "You said you don't know anything about your father. Let me think ... he served in both the Spanish and the Genovian Army."

"Really?" Megan finally sat down and her eyes lit up in wonder.

"Army captain. Decorated for bravery," Clarisse announced with pride, "... but not before he graduated the top of his class."

"That's pretty good."

"Well, let's see ... there is so much to remember. He is charming, quite an athlete, intellectual ... he can match words with any Parliamentarian ... very handsome, an excellent dancer ..."

"I really appreciate all this," Megan admitted, her head bashfully bowed.

"He was like a father to my boys ..."

Clarisse couldn't go on. Her throat was constricted and her eyes burned with un-shed tears.

"Of course, I did," a voice sounded behind the two women.


	11. First Real Talk

11. First Real Talk

"Of course, I did," a voice sounded behind the two women.

Again Megan gave a loud screech and toppled over with her chair. Clarisse was more elegant in her reaction but she, too, gasped and placed a hand over her racing heart. Glaring daggers at the intruder, Clarisse whipped her head around.

"Dad!" Megan exclaimed in surprise, trying to disentangle herself from her chair and getting to her feet again.

Joseph chuckled as he watched his daughter struggling to get up and simultaneously trying to hold her skirt down. She was almost as clumsy as his Princess. Clarisse, though, was still very bemused and cold towards her husband. Standing up with dignity, she moved to the other side of the table and bent down to help Megan up.

"Are you alright? This looked painful," she asked with real concern in her voice and kind eyes.

Megan was momentarily thrown and looked up into the older woman's eyes, searching for an explanation of her behaviour. She seemed to find the reassurance she needed and smiled up brilliantly. For a moment Clarisse thought her heart might stop. It was the same killer smile Joseph always sent her way when they were alone. It didn't help that her mouth was the same shape as Joseph's. Instinctively Clarisse reached out and stroked a wayward strand of hair back behind Megan's ear, a caress she had longed to bestow on her own daughter.

Joseph watched Clarisse and thanked his lucky star yet again that he was really married to this incredible woman. She was so warm-hearted and loving, even to a complete stranger she had every right to hate. His heart swelled with pride and love only to sink into his boots again. How could Clarisse forgive him his tryst with Livvy? Or that he had not told her the moment he had found out?

But there had been a reason for it.

"I'm fine, thank you, Your Majesty."

It seemed that not only he was uncomfortable or shocked to see his wife so close to his daughter. Megan's eyes were wide as she looked up into Clarisse's and took the proffered hand. Her mouth was slightly open in amazement but she shook her surprise off quickly. With some hesitation she clasped Clarisse's hand and let the older woman help her up.

"Please call me Clarisse ... I mean ... only if you want to," stammered Clarisse, uncustomarily flustered by the quiet girl still holding her hand.

"C-Clarisse," Megan pronounced the name carefully, tasting every syllable of the unfamiliar name.

Joseph noticed that his daughter was still feeling awkward and uncomfortable. It was all moving a bit too fast: Megan entering his life, Clarisse finding out about Megan, he and Clarisse having their first major fight and finally Clarisse seemingly accepting Megan into her life. There were still so many things to talk about and to discuss before they could be a family ... or even attempting to be one.

"Megan, would you mind giving Clarisse and me the chance to talk about the latest developments?" he asked politely. Truth be told: he wasn't all that comfortable around his daughter either. He had no idea how to be a father ... to a girl. The princes had been easy-going with him but Joseph had never forgotten about their station in life far above his own. And his nieces and nephews were spoiled rotten by him, he let pass everything they did.

Megan bowed her head and looked almost defeated. Her hair fell forward and hid her face but Joe and Clarisse could see her hand shaking.

"I heard you screaming," she mumbled quietly. "Look, dad, you waited so long for this ... being married to the woman you love. I can see that my being here messes everything up. I'm sorry but ... I don't wanna break you up." Her voice became softer and quieter with each word. "Mum always said that it was my fault that she had no man. I don't want to ruin your marriage."

Joseph stared at his daughter with wide eyes and for the first time envisioned her life before meeting him. Clarisse as well looked shocked to her core. How could a mother blame her child for the failures of her life? She wondered. Her life hadn't been easy by all means but she had always tried to mask her feelings of devastation and anger from her sons. Whatever happened between her and Rupert stayed between the four walls of their suite.

"Megan, it wasn't your fault," she whispered quietly.

Joseph only shook his head mutely, still too astounded by the new revelations.

"Megan, we will talk about this later but I really need to talk to Clarisse right now. Please wait in my rooms for us," he said, hoping to God that there would still be an 'us' after his talk to Clarisse.

Megan nodded and hesitantly moved towards the door. For a moment she was tempted to eavesdrop but she knew that when her father found out he would be angry and disappointed with her so she went straight to his rooms. She decided that it was better to give the newlyweds time to sort out the burdens of two lives lived separately.

"Clarisse, please let me explain to you ..." Joseph started to say but Clarisse interrupted him icily.

"And what do you want to explain? How Megan came to be? I've know that since my wedding night," she almost snarled angrily. She turned away from him and stared coldly and emptily out the window.

Joseph approached her carefully, like a man would approach a bomb ready to go off. He didn't try to touch her but he stood close to her side, overlooking her gardens as well.

"Clarisse, please, I'm begging you to just listen to me," he said softly, heartbroken and insecure.

No words came over her lips and her gaze was still directed outside but she nodded almost imperceptibly. Joseph sighed heavily.

"I hope you can forgive me, Clarisse, once you know."

Once she knew? Her brows shot up, but she still refused to speak. Joseph had more to say ... and she still didn't trust her feelings or her voice.

"I was so afraid to lose you again, darling," he murmured. "So afraid. I haven't loved anyone but you, my Queen, never since the day I saw you ... but I couldn't ... I couldn't bear ..." His voice drifted off in an unintelligible mumble, and his eyes closed briefly.

Clarisse stood still, wondering what she should do. As she cautiously watched him out of the corner of her eyes, his eyes opened suddenly once again. Heavy with unspoken pain, they sought her face and locked with her eyes.

"When I had my free day I was furious with you," he began to recount his story. "I wandered around all day, restless and still very angry ... not with you any longer but with myself for being this childish. Around nightfall I entered a pub in the town not far from Balmoral ... a little nightcap wouldn't hurt, I thought. In this pub I met Livvy. She was a nice person to be around. We just talked ... well, and drank quiet a lot. We became completely spent and ... and ... suffice it to say ..."

"You spent the night together," Clarisse stated flatly.

"I suppose I was lonely ... pining away after you," he said quietly. He stood still in his usual guarding stance with his feet spread to shoulder width and his hands clasping behind his back. His eyes were trained on the roses and tulips in the garden.

"I suppose you were," Clarisse said, careful to let no tone either of sympathy or condemnation show. She knew something of loneliness, too. Years of marriage to an unloving and uncaring husband were reason for that.

"Please believe me, Clarisse, I had no idea about Megan. None at all. When I came back with Princess Mia this summer, I found a letter on my desk. It was from the British youth welfare office, concerning the paternity of one Megan Cooper. The letter listed Oliva Cooper as her mother and I immediately knew it was Livvy. But I thought I couldn't possibly be Megan's father ... I had never ... you know, slept with a woman without protection. I'm not that irresponsible."

"Apparently you were this once," Clarisse interrupted. This time she clearly showed her disapproval in her voice. Her eyes were pained and her arms had come up and crossed over her bosom, hugging herself. Joseph felt horrible for causing his wife so much pain.

"The test came out positive," Joseph doggedly went on. He had to get everything out or they would never heal and be a family. "I can't believe I'm a father, still. It is as shocking to me as it is to you. I mean have you ever looked at me and seen me as a dad? Me? The toughest guy in his troop? The Head of Security? What could I have offered a child?"

Clarisse finally turned towards him and looked up into his eyes with her blue orbs which now more than ever were looking straight to the bottom of his soul. Her lips twitched, unsure to smile lovingly at him, sneer sarcastically at him or remain unmoved.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I can imagine you as a father. As a very good and loving father," she told him serenely. Then her eyes dropped and she turned her face to the side. "I dreamt of you as the father of my children."

Clarisse turned away from him and took two steps towards the door before a hand shot forward and grabbed her arms. Turning her back towards him gently, Joseph stared at her, speechless and in shock. He searched her eyes for the truth and found it in the blue depth.


	12. No Holding Back Anymore

_A./N.: I'm sorry for the delay. Life has been cruel to me lately and I had to get back on track before I could write again. Enjoy this chapter and leave a review. LG Andrea_

12. No Holding Back Anymore

Clarisse's words were still ringing in Joseph's ears. Had she really said what he thought she had? Did she really mean those words? He stood shell-shocked in front of his love. For the first time since their first meeting, Clarisse let all her barriers down and showed herself to him, all of herself. Her eyes were truly the windows to her soul, they showed him all the love, trust and understanding she held for him as well as the hurt, sadness and confusion recent events had left behind. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for the flood of emotions threatening to drown him.

Overwhelmed by his own feelings, he wrapped his arms around his wife and crushed her to him, driving the wind from her lungs. His mouth claimed hers in a demanding, almost feverishly devastated urgency. Clarisse's eyes flew wide open in surprise and her hands came up in an attempt to push him away. Joseph obviously felt her discomfort for he softened his kiss, drawing her impossibly closer to him.

Clarisse felt her thoughts scatter and flee under the sensual assault of Joseph's kiss. His kiss was both new and yet familiar, exciting and yet comforting. With every fibre she longed to be closer to him still but rational thought inserted itself, with a vengeance. Pressing her hands against his chest and gently but insisting, she pushed him back.

"Joseph, stop," she panted, "this is madness."

Reluctantly he acquiesced to her wishes and, panting as hard as she was, stepped back a little, still holding her around the waist. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, sounding and feeling like a chastised schoolboy. "I forgot myself. You really think I would make a good father?" he asked almost inaudibly.

For him it was unthinkable, almost ridiculous. Yet images began to rise before his eyes, images of himself and his darling Clarisse together and younger. They were laughing and he leaned over, touching his hand protectively to her stomach. Clarisse tenderly covered his hand with hers and smiled brilliantly up to him. Then the scenery changed and Joseph saw himself cradling a tiny infant while Clarisse still lay in bed, sleeping peacefully, bathed in early sunlight. Almost fearfully he looked down on the bundle in his arms and recognized immediately Clarisse's sparkling blue orbs in their child's face. Crooning softly to her (he somehow knew it was their daughter), he reached out a finger which she grabbed instantly in her tiny fist and smiled toothlessly up to him.

His eyes misted over with tears as his daydream progressed. Clarisse watched him intently, wondering and half fearing what he was thinking about. Had she gone too far in sharing that inner most secret with him? Had she offended him in some way?

"Oh , Clarisse, please tell me you meant ... that I would really made a good ... oh God, Clarisse ..." He teared up then and leaned heavily on Clarisse. Clarisse's arms went around him instantly and drew him close to her, cradling his head in the cervix between shoulder and neck and stroking the fringe of hair at the base of his head.

"Joseph, you will make a wonderful father for Megan," she reassured him softly. She kissed the top of his head softly and just held him.

A few moments later they were disturbed by voices coming towards them. It sounded very much like Shades and Charlotte. Joseph's spine stiffened instantly as he heard the voice of his younger colleague. He would be damned to let the younger man see him cry. Clarisse was not in the mood to deal with her aide either.

"Do you trust me?" Joseph asked Clarisse with a soft gleam in his eyes.

Clarisse nodded silently asking herself what Joseph was up to. He then led Clarisse to one of the book cases had pushed it to the side, revealing a secret passage way. Clarisse gasped in surprise but before she could voice any of her questions, Joseph put his finger to his mouth to indicate they should keep quiet.

The passage led to a corridor not far away from Her Majesty's suite and Clarisse felt like a teenager, having escaped her over-protective parents to run away to a clandestine date.

----

Clarisse changed in the dressing room, dropping her clothes on the floor with relief, and brushing out her hair. Wearing only a silk chemise, she came into the bedroom, to see Joseph standing by the French door in his boxers and t-shirt, looking out over the gardens.

He turned when he heard her, and beckoned, putting a finger to his lips.

"Come see," he whispered.

There were Megan and Maurice, playing together carelessly. It seemed that her guardian and friend had taken to the young girl. Birds were beginning to sing their evening serenade in the trees near the palace; besides them, the only sound was the frequent yipping of Maurice and peals of laughter from Megan.

Clarisse and Joseph watched them in silence, side by side. The gardens began to turn goden as the last rays of sun touched it. In that state of extreme fatigue where every sense is preternaturally heightened, Clarisse was as aware of Joseph as though she was touching him.

Megan's revelations had relieved her of most of her fears and doubts ... and yet there remained the fact that Joseph had not told her about his daughter. Of course he had reasons ... and good ones ... for his secrecy, but did he not think he could trust her to keep his secret and love him anyway? It occurred to her suddenly that perhaps he had kept quiet because of the girl's mother. Perhaps he had loved her, in spite of Megan's impressions.

She was dead; could it matter if he had? The answer was that it did. Clarisse had thought Joseph was pinning away over her for 35 years. Clarisse had thought him unreachable, a pleasant phantasy to chase away the nightmares of her reality and it had made no difference at all in what she felt for him. What if he had loved this young English woman in such a way? She swallowed a small lump in her throat, trying to find the courage to ask him.

His face was abstracted, a small frown creasing his forehead, despite the dawning beauty of the gardens.

"What are you thinking?" she asked at last, unable to ask for reassurance, fearing to ask for the truth.

"It's only that I had a thought," he answered, still staring out at his daughter and her dog. "About Megan."

The events of the last day seemed far away and unimportant.

"What was that?"

"Well, I wasn't totally honest with you." He paused, drawing a finger through the light mist of condensation that formed on the window-panes as the sun set. "And yet ..." He turned to face her. His face was troubled. "I was alone ... very much alone."

"A stranger, in a strange land," Clarisse said quietly, remembering the poems of sailors and soldiers.

"Yes, that's it." He stopped to think, rubbing a hand slowly over his head. "And when a man is alone that way ... well, it's maybe no decent to say it, but making love to a woman is maybe the only thing that will make him forget it for a time." He looked down, turning his hands over, stroking the length of his fingers with the index finger of his left hand. "That's what made me sleep with Livvy," he said quietly. "Not the other's nagging about me being the bachelor forever. Not pity for her. Not even a pair of aching balls." His mouth turned up briefly at one corner, then relaxed. "Only needing to forget I was alone," he finished softly.

He turned restlessly, back to the window. Clarisse stood beside him. Out in the centre of the gardens, Megan threw a ball and Maurice raced after it.

Joseph was silent for several minutes, and Clarisse was as well, not knowing how to take the conversation back to what had happened.

She felt rather than saw him swallow, and he turned from the window to face her. There were lines of tiredness in his face, but his expression was filled with a sort of determination ... the sort of look he wore facing battle.

"Clarisse," he said, and at once she stiffened. He called her by her name only when he was most serious. "Clarisse, I should have told you before." He was searching her face for some clue to her feelings, but for once, her giveaway countenance must have been perfectly blank. "I would have ... only ..." He took a deep breath for strength to go on. "I haven't told anyone about Megan," he said. "Not even my sister."

That startled Clarisse enough to speak.

"Jenny doesn't know?"

He shook his head, and turned away to watch Megan and Maurice again.

"I was afraid to tell you," he said low-voiced. "For fear you would think that perhaps I'd gone about ... having countless affairs left and right ... for fear you'd think that I wouldn't care for you. But I do care, Clarisse ... a great deal more than I can tell you." He lifted his head and looked directly at her. "Will you forgive me?"

"Did you ..." The words almost choked her, but she had to say them. "Did you love her?"

An extraordinary expression of sadness crossed his face, but he didn't look away.

"No," he said softly. "She ... wanted me. I shouldn't have gone along with it, but I did." He did look down then, long lashes hiding his eyes. "I am guilty of betrayal; perhaps the more guilty ... because I didn't love her."

Clarisse didn't say anything, but put up a hand to touch his cheek. He pressed his own hand over it, hard, and closed his eyes.

"You should have trusted me," she said at last. Joseph nodded, slowly, then opened his eyes, still holding her hand.

"Perhaps I should," he said quietly. "And yet I kept thinking ... how should I tell you everything, about Livvy, and Megan. How shall I tell you all these things," he said, the line of his mouth twisting. "And then say to you ... it is only you I have ever loved? How should you believe me?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy like the lies had, like all the years of waiting.

"If you say it," Clarisse said, "I'll believe you."

"You will?" Joseph sounded faintly astonished. "Why?"

"Because you're an honest man, Joseph Elizondo," she said, smiling so that she wouldn't cry. "And may the Lord have mercy on you for it."

"Only you," he said, so softly she could barely hear him. "To worship you with my body, give you all the service of my hands. To give you my name, and all my heart and soul with it. Only you. Because you will not let me lie ... and yet you love me."

Clarisse did touch him then.

"Joseph," she said softly, and laid her hand on his arm. "You aren't alone anymore."

He turned then and took her by the arms, searching her face.

"I swore to you," she said. "When we married. I did mean it then ... and I mean it now. For better or for worse. Till death do us part."

Then Joseph took the shift from his Clarisse, and she lay back on the narrow bed naked, pulled him down to her through the soft yellow light, and took him home, and home again, and neither one of them was alone.


	13. You're My Aunt? Shut Up!

So very, very sorry it took so long but life interfered with my muse.

13. You're My Aunt? ... Shut Up!

Joseph leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Clarisse's lips, his hands moving to cup her cheeks. His tongue daringly traced her bottom lip, begging for entrance to her silken lips. His wife moaned and looped her arms around his neck, her hands threading through his fringe of hair.

Clarisse's hands were still on his head, her finger nails gently grating against his scalp. A moan slipped through her lips as his lips moved from her neck to her collar bone, his tongue licking a particularly sensitive spot. She gasped as her body began to ignite into a raging inferno, her skin tingling and her eyes fluttering closed.

Joseph groaned as his erect member pressed against her thigh, his boxer shorts the only thing keeping his flesh from contacting hers. He kept his lips on her collar bone as his hands slowly moved down her arms and sides. His hands moved back up, causing a sweet tingling sensation throughout her body. He began placing tender kisses along her stomach and up to her breasts where his lips ventured along the mounds.

Clarisse was panting now, her heart pounding against her chest so loudly, she was sure he was able to hear and feel it. Her hands gripped at the sheets and she drew her legs up slightly. Her right hand moved to his back, gently scraping up his back and against his neck before cupping his scalp again. A gasp escaped her as he pressed delicate kisses in the valley between her breasts and worked his way back up her chest and to her neck. His lips eventually met hers again and passionately kissed her, his tongue tracing her bottom lip, begging for entrance in the petal-soft lips he got so much pleasure in knowing would forever be his to kiss.

Joseph continued his ministrations, a gasp escaping him when his lover hooked her thumbs in his boxer shorts and quickly dropped them to his knees. He broke their kiss and looked into her eyes as she helped him rid himself of the bothersome trousers.

"Make love to me," she whispered softly, her words barely audible to either of them.

He simple nodded and bit his lip as he moved to enter, so nervous about not being able to please her.

The couple became one with loud moans of pleasure leaving both of their throats, her higher, more airy one clashing passionately with his deep velvety baritone one. They moved cautiously at first, as if they were in need of a map; they soon found their rhythm and moved together as one, soft gasps escaping her lips accompanied by his deep growls and groans.

Joseph bent down and kissed her deeply as he quickened their pace, his grip on her hips tightening ever so slightly. His wife tilted her body, her hips more than anything else, to help bring them both the fullest amount of pleasure they could receive from one another. He moaned into her mouth as her muscles clenched slightly around him.

Clarisse looped her arms around his neck again as they broke their kiss for a gasp of air. She brought his lips back to hers and kissed him with a fiery passion that filled her heart and was for him and him only. She felt herself teetering near the edge of her climax, her muscles tightening and readying themselves for the explosion that was sure to come.

Her husband felt the same building sensation in his body and continued to kiss her as deeply and passionately as he could, only breaking away slightly to breathe before plunging back into the passionate battle of their tongues.

He broke his hold of her lips and cried out her name as he came, his name falling from her lips as well, her orgasm rocking her as his shook his core. He collapsed beside her, not registering the fact that she rolled with him to keep him inside of her as the remnants of their climaxes dissolved into their forms.

Her eyes met his as they opened their eyes and looked at each other, a blissfully content smile gracing their features.

"That was ... amazing," she whispered, still gasping for breath as her heart continued to pound against her chest. "Absolutely amazing."

He could do nothing but grin broader as she complimented him. "Yes, you were," he replied, chuckling softly at the blush that filled her cheeks.

His hand cupped said cheeks and brought her slightly swollen lips to his for a tender, gentle kiss, not of the fiery passion as the ones before, but of the gentle flow of love that they shared.

Clarisse broke the kiss and settled into his embrace as a yawn left her body.

"Tired, Mrs. Elizondo?" her husband asked, the grin on his face evident in his voice.

She could only grin in return and look up at him with tired, but elated, eyes.

"Yes, I am," she replied softly. "Mr. Elizondo seems to know how to take care of his wife properly. Not that I didn't enjoy it, mind you. He's quite pleasurable. Utterly, wonderfully exhausting." She smiled as his body shook softly with his laughter and relished in the feeling of his arms wrapping around her and holding her naked form to his equally nude one.

Joseph gently let his hand stroke her back, coaxing her to sleep after uttering a soft "I love you, Clarisse." He felt tears well in his eyes as the words he had longed to hear left her lips.

"I love you, too, Joseph."

_My head resting on his chest, I lie__ in his warm embrace, an embrace that promises safety and protection. It feels like finally being home again after a long and tiring journey, which had no destination. And next to the sensation of having him back, there is something else._

_In moments like these, when there is suddenly all the calmness and silence after the passion and heat, I always feel something like equality. In these moments and what precedes them, the roles shift, I feel equal to him. I'm not the superior one then, the Queen vanishes in favour of someone else. And so does the Chief of Security. I love them both, but I love them differently and for different reasons. The one for his admirable strength and the other one for his cosy warmth. It's like opening a polished safe out of steal, huge and imposing, just to find a teddy inside. By now an old one maybe, worn from all the hugs over the past years, but the little black button eyes still look the same, touching him still feels the same. Almost forgotten delight and pleasure._

_I'm glad that he still can make me__ feel like that. A simple touch of him can create those shivers running through my body, desire and warmth. Moreover, I am glad that he still longs for me and my body after all these years. Then my body probably always pleased him most, even though then he hadn't been allowed to touch me._

_Therefore, I sometimes have the slight fear this might change one day. A feeling I think is understandable. After all Rupert had turned away from me after a time, being bored with me. A scary feeling, because, honestly, there aren't many other things I can offer or give. At least nothing, any other woman could give him, too._

_Yes, he chose me. He chose me__ over brighter ones, prettier ones, funnier ones, easier ones. He chose me over Livvy. He says he did, because he loves me. I know he does. Nevertheless, I don't know why he waited for me this long. Especially as it wasn't love at first sight, for none of us, although – in tender and relaxed moments like these - he sometimes declares it was. Sweet lie. There wasn't love. Not in the very beginning and not for a very long time. At first there was duty, which then slowly developed into friendship. That's how it is. There were no fairies singing and turning the world into a glittering wonderland with their fairy dust, when we first met. It wasn't magical. _

_It is now._

Megan was playing absent-mindedly with the Queen's dog, Maurice. He was the biggest dog she had seen so far and normally she was afraid of dogs, but Maurice was so gentle despite his height that Megan forgot the reason why she should be afraid of him. But only momentarily.

_A rabid dog had made its way into her mother's garden. It had corned Megan as she had stood, frozen in fear, tensing for an attack. Her mother had stood near the house, her eyes riveted on the dog and her daughter, unable to move. And then the old lady living next door to them had stepped between the little girl and the dog, and just as the animal sprang, her husband had fired his ancient rifle from WWII, and the dog had fallen dead at their feet._

Mia had enough of these pre-coronation chitters. Her mother and Charlotte were worse than her Grandma. Speaking of her Grandma, Mia had to grin cheekily. Since the surprise wedding Mia had rarely seen either of the newlyweds. 'Prolly stuck in their suite having fun while I run amok in the palace,' Mia thought highly amused at the thought. She had only seen Queen Clarisse let her guard down and be herself when she had visited her in San Francisco. There the protocol had been less strict and Clarisse's responsibilities less pressing. Besides Joseph had been close to her the entire time. Mia smiled dreamily and a bit wistfully; how she wished for a love like that.

Sighing, Mia turned towards her grandmother's gardens. For the first time she understood their calming quality. Among the roses, lilies, and all the other flowers, Mia's heart lifted up and the frown vanished from her forehead. She hadn't been a fan of flowers before but now she bent forward, cupping a blooming rose in her hand and sniffing its heady scent delicately. The intoxicating aroma began to work its wonder on her, making her forget the treaties and foreign correspondence waiting on her grandmother's desk for her. Or her mother and Charlotte, for that matter ... probably turning the palace inside out by now in their search for her.

With a broad grin slowly spreading over her face, Mia rejoiced in her solitude and jumped a little. Of course, she knew Lionel was not that far behind her and Shades watched her from the security room, but this was as close to being alone as she got outside her suite.

Suddenly Mia heard the happy bark of Maurice. Smiling to herself, she decided to pay the lovebirds a visit. Maybe her grandmother could let her into her little world and tell her a few tricks. Mia certainly hoped so.

Rounding the corner of a hedge, she was nearly run over by her grandmother's big, white poodle. Maurice raced after a tennis ball, long legs almost letting him fly over the ground. A bunching of muscle and he leapt up, catching the ball between his teeth effortlessly. Mia watched Maurice trot off again, without so much as glancing at her. Mia chuckled and followed the dog. He was as intend on her grandmother and the mistress of his heart as Joe was.

As she rounded the corner fully, Mia suddenly halted in her tracks as if she had walked straight into a brick wall.

The first summer she had come to Genovia and had met Maurice, the dog wouldn't let her touch him at all. He only watched her out of brown, hostile eyes and kept close to his mistress, as if trying to protect her from that strange new person. He hadn't let her pet him till the next summer and then only while Clarisse held his leash tightly in her hand. And now he was running towards a young girl ... a young, _strange _girl!

Huffing a little in frustration, Mia started to lengthen her stride and march right up to that stranger. "Hey, what are you doing with my grandmother's dog? He isn't a lap puppy; you better be careful," she blurted out, all at once.

The young girl seemed to jump from fright, due to the sudden outburst. Mia noticed the slight flush on the young one's cheeks as she retreated from her and patted Maurice on his back as if hoping to use him as a shield. Her shoulders seemed to slump a little, causing her head to fall forward and allow her hair to flow in front of her embarrassed expression. Her mouth was still visible, as she mumbled something under her breath and gnawed the bottom lip.

"Sorry?" asked Mia; her voice a little softer this time, due to realisation of the true effect of her professional vocal capacity. Megan backed a little further away and Mia had enough. "Hey, kiddo, I won't bite your head off! So tough it up and tell me who you belong to."

"I'm ... I'm sorry," the girl stuttered and Maurice caught the slight tremble of her body next to his. He knew by now that Mia was like a little dog; she would bark a lot but not actually bite. No need to worry about her ... but why was his new friend afraid of her then? Looking from one woman to the other, Maurice tried to figure out what he could do. And then he knew.

Dropping the ball in front of Mia's feet, he looked up to her expectantly and wagged his tail, clearly trying to animate her to throw the ball.

Mia sighed, but obliged and grabbed it before throwing it far away for the dog to bound after. She took in a deep breath and looked at Megan. The girl rocked from her heel to her toes a few times, biting her lip before she finally looked up at Mia.

"I'm Megan," she said softly. "I'm just playing with Maurice ... I was taking him for a walk."

Mia nodded, but still didn't understand how she had such a sudden companionship with the dog.

"Oh ... well, I, umm ... How long have you been walking with Maurice? He's not usually so ... so ... well, he doesn't usually take well to meeting new people."

"Oh, I'm not a new person, Your Highness. Don't worry. Maurice isn't afraid of me ... he knows, like my Dad, I would never hurt him. And I have been walking with him for today only."

"Dad? Your Dad knows Maurice too?"

"Yeah, my dad gave Maurice to Her Majesty. You know him, too, Your Highness. My dad's name is Joe." She turned to the dog, speaking to him now instead of Mia. "You're a good watch dog for Her Majesty, Maurice! Yes, you do! And Dad just adores you for that, of course."

Mia stood there, mouth open, and starting to fume ... as the tid-bits of information began to slowly seep through to her mind.

"J ... Joe?" she stuttered. "Your Dad is Joe? My Joe? Grandma's Joe?"

"Yes ..." Megan smiled, but her happiness quickly faded with one look at Mia's expression. "I hope that's alright ..." Mia didn't reply, but still stood there, open-mouthed, and shocked. "Excuse me? Are you alright? I ..."

"... I'm fine. Perfectly ... fine," Mia pressed out, before taking a deep breath, and trying to calm down ... but she was unsuccessful. "You're Joe's daughter?" she asked again, not willing to believe her ears.

Megan only nodded, but a worried expression crept onto her face. She reached out a hand to touch the young woman's arm, in case she needed steadying. Before she could reach her though, Mia burst out, "You're my aunt? ... SHUT UP!"

Seeing the stunned expression of Megan's face, Mia knew she had no idea what she was talking about. Instead Mia slowly began to understand why there had been whispering between her grandmother's ladies-in-waiting and why Charlotte had been so adamant that the Queen should not be disturbed. Turning around and running off in the direction of the castle, she couldn't get away from Megan fast enough. She had to find her grandmother.


	14. Not So Hidden Hostility

14. (Not So) Hidden Hostility

Mia was not at all sure what she should think. Thinking hard, Mia had to admit that she knew almost nothing about Joseph's life. Could it be possible that her hero had kept such a secret? As she was storming through the corridors towards her grandmother's suite, Mia grew angrier with each step she took. How could Joe not tell them about something as important as a daughter? … Did her grandma know? Mia stopped short, trying to digest that possibility, and what that would say for the relationship between her and her grandmother ... but then again, 'Queen' Clarisse had always done her level best to keep her love affair with her Head of Security a secret. Mia herself had only by accident found out about the strong feelings between the older couple.

_Joseph came into Clarisse's silent and deserted greenhouse, closed the door behind him, not noticing that it sprang open slightly again, and went deeper into the building, where he found Clarisse tending to a rose sapling. She looked at Joseph, dark circles under her eyes. Her costume seemed to hang on her. She said, "Joseph", and then she collapsed._

_He carried her across the __yard to the pavilion, laid her on the bench and looked at her._

_ "Clarisse," he murmured, touching her face. Her eyelids fluttered. She breathed deeply. She was asleep._

_He continued to watch her. She was beautiful, but she was so fragile; he thought her skin looked as if it was stretched too tightly over her bones. _

_Mia stood in the open doorway. She watched them for a moment, Joseph bent over Clarisse, a look of concern and love on his face. "Is she sick?" Mia said._

_He looked up and immediately assumed his usual guarding stance. "Mia," he said in surprise. "No, but she's exhausted. She desperately needs to sleep."_

_ "Arthur Mabrey is asking for her. Parliament wants to resume their meeting__ about my ... accession to the throne ..." Mia swallowed hard and her eyes went immediately to her grandmother. She was exhausted because of her, because of fighting of her rights._

_ "Tell them Her Majesty will come in a little while, after she's had some sleep."_

_Mia looked at the way Joseph bent over Clarisse, the way his eyes were fixed on her. She turned and left. She had the distinct feeling she was one too many in this situation._

Mia wasn't sure if her grandmother would ever tell her the complete story, how they had met and fallen in love. Clarisse, both the Queen and the private person, was very introverted and secretive. Mia suspected it was because all her life had been spent in the public eye. 'Well, only one way to find out,' Mia thought rather sarcastically. With long strides she went ahead to her grandmother's suite of rooms.

Mia felt nothing but anger as she walked quickly to her grandmother's room. She already had a whole speech prepared for her ... but that was the keyword ... "her". She hadn't been prepared to barge in the door and find Joe with Clarisse already in bed at such an early hour in the day. She was especially stunned to see her grandmother jerking the blanket up to her chin and taking on a deep red colouring, while Joe tried to cover himself with his hands and a corner of the blanket.

Mia blushed furiously but stood her ground. "Oh, what're you doing now, Joe! MAKING ANOTHER BABY!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Clarisse blinked for a moment, still trying to take in the whole situation and Joe's face became ghostly pale.

"You know ... about Megan."

"Umm, DUH."

Joe sighed. "I'm so sorry you obviously had to find out on your own. Mia, we need to talk about this."

"Sure thing, but I'd love some clothes first. This isn't the Garden of Eden, need I remind you."

Joe blushed again, the colour pouring back into his face, and nodded. "Give us 2 minutes."

Mia sighed and walked out into the hall, closing the door behind her. A few minutes later the door opened and Clarisse stood in the doorway, smiling politely at her granddaughter. With an elaborate hand-gesture she invited Mia into her living room to take a seat on the elegant sofa.

"Do you want some tea? I called Olivia and ordered some, it should be here any minute," Clarisse said softly.

Mia, though, exploded in her face. "Grandma, stop it! Leave that diplomatic talk for parliament! I'm your granddaughter ... your very pissed granddaughter!"

"Mia, watch your language!" Clarisse snapped back, losing her shaky grip on her temper. The encounter with Mia earlier had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. "And speaking of which, I want an apology for that remark earlier!" she said coldly, making it clear that it was an order.

"Sorry," Mia mumbled, obviously not meaning it.

Clarisse, though, excepted it anyway and nodded slightly, turning her head to Joe as he entered the room.

"Mia," he spoke softly. "Take a seat."

She obliged, and sat where her grandmother had gestured her to only a few moments prior, and Joe and Clarisse took a seat on the two chairs opposite her.

"So, what's this all about? You have a daughter, and neither of you told me?"

"In all fairness, Mia, your grandmother herself only found out yesterday about Megan. And speaking of me, I had no idea I was a father until I came back from America with you and found the letter on my table, asking me in for a blood test."

"Well, where you planning on telling me?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Of course, Mia. You know ... you must know how much we love you," Clarisse said immediately. She knew that she didn't often express her feelings openly, but she thought that the people she loved knew it by the little kind gestures towards them.

Joe nodded gravely before answering as well, "Mia, I planned, still do, to introduce Megan into this family, small as it is. She is my daughter and now that I married into this family I hope you accept her along with me."

Joe blinked at Mia. She was the second woman who threw that in his face. Was he not human, too? He had needs, as bad as that sounded, and desires and Livvy, as wrong as it had been, had relieved him momentarily of those needs. It hadn't taken long ... actually only to the next morning when he had seen Queen Clarisse coming out of her rooms in a stunning yellow costume, looking more radiant than ever.

Now after all those years, he had to defend himself not only to his wife, who had a right of sorts for an explanation, but also to her granddaughter, a girl who had stood her bridegroom up at the altar for another man.

"Mia," Clarisse said warningly, although she ducked her head a little. Joe shouldn't see that she did agree with Mia, even though she had told Joe she could understand him. In her heart it still felt like a betrayal of sorts.

Joe could feel the slight tension in his wife and reached for her hand. It warmed his heart that she didn't pull away from him but interlaced her fingers with his.

"I ... I wanted to wait," he confessed, "but, hey, I'm a man and we all know that men are pigs." He tried to joke but the way Clarisse's head jerked up and her hand out of his told him that it hadn't gone down smoothly. Mia, too, looked up sharply and opened her mouth to reprimand him.

"JOE! It is bad enough that you did NOT wait for my grandmother like you were supposed to, AND that you have a DAUGHTER, that I do not know about, waltzing around outside with Maurice, but now you're justifying yourself by generalizing all men! All men are NOT pigs, and I thought you were one of the good ones!" Mia had jumped up from the sofa and yelled at Joe, towering menacingly over him. She was hissing like an angry wildcat. "If that is how you think about it, I don't think you deserve my grandma!"

"Mia," Clarisse gasped. She stood up as well and moved to her granddaughter. Gently she turned her to face her and wrapped her arms around her. "Mia, I know it's hard to accept. I have trouble accepting it, but we have to consider the facts. Joseph met Livvy ..."

"Livvy?" Mia asked confused.

"Megan's mother," Joe put in, as a way of explanation.

"As I was saying," Clarisse continued, "Joseph met Livvy at a time when I was still unavailable for her. I was married to your grandfather, Mia. Did I expect Joseph to pine away over me? Yes, in a way I did, but I'm realistic enough to understand that he was seeking a relationship with woman he could marry. It had always been my greatest fear."

"So you forgive him for this?" Mia asked. She wasn't one to hold grudges ... for long, anyway, but she was still shocked beyond words that her grandmother hadn't cared Joe had slept with someone else while supposedly pining away over her.

"Of course I have. It was rather ... hard, to accept, but it becomes easier. And besides," she smiled at him. "He's mine now and I do love him a lot."

Mia smiled. "That's true," she replied happily, "and very romantic. But, how does Megan feel about it all?"

"I guess that is something you should ask me, Your Highness," came a small voice from the doorway.

"MEGAN!" Mia yelled, turning around quickly and facing the child.

Clarisse and Joe whirled around as well, too stunned to say anything. Megan didn't know whether she should smile or not, so she looked down at Maurice before looking back up at Mia and smiling slightly.

"Well, how do you feel about it?" Mia asked softly. Her feelings for the girl quiet different from her feelings for Joe. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't begged Joe to be her father.

"I'm happy to have Her Majesty in my life, even though the transition may be hard. I mean, I've never been around my dad either, but, even though it happened all at once, it feels like I have my own little family now."

Mia smiled and nodded, her anger quickly vanishing all together. "Well, you'll be happy to know, you have an aunt too."

Megan grinned as Mia stood and walked over to embrace her. "I hope you didn't get a completely wrong impression of me," Mia whispered. "I have nothing against you or your father. It's just a ... hard transition." She smiled and received an answering smile from Megan. But she swore she would have a serious talk with Joe later.

Arthur Mabrey had very influential friends. Some of them were lawyers, and very good lawyers at that. His dear friend Hugh Fenton, an English lawyer he knew from his college days, visited him every day and got his hopes up that he would be able to get him out of prison. His defence was built up around the opinion that lese-majesty was an archaic, out-of-date law and that it was ridiculous to use it against the Viscount in the present days, conveniently forgetting that Mabrey wanted to steal the throne with the help of such an archaic law.

The Viscount swore to take revenge on the Ice-Queen and her little American princess as soon as he was out of prison. Next would be his own wretched, back-stabbing nephew.


	15. Communication is a Family's Foundation

_A./N.: Special thanks to my wonderful beta and friend in Wales for helping me put that chapter together. _

I also want to thank PaintMeIntrigued, Honkytonkangle, bluegirl-783, Veve, JUJUChick16, risingdancer, and Wish-to-be-Weasley for their kind reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Next chapter shouldn't take me long.

15. Communication is a family's foundation

"That went better than expected," Joseph exclaimed, beaming happily at Clarisse.

Clarisse refrained from any comment, not wanting to hurt Megan's feeling, since the girl still stood next to them. She, too, was visibly relieved and happy.

"Why don't you take Maurice out again and we'll call you in when dinner is ready," she suggested gently.

Megan nodded and called Maurice over to her. "Alright, Your ... Clarisse, will do." And off she was, Maurice happily bounding after his new friend.

Joseph, though, eyed his wife suspiciously. "Why did you send her out, darling?" he asked her, one eyebrow raised. Smiling to himself quietly, he found it very amusing to see Clarisse blush a little over the fact that she had been caught out.

"That is preposterous, Joseph ..." She was interrupted by her husband.

"Clarisse."

It was spoken quietly, but it certainly was a warning to stick to the truth. Clarisse sighed softly ... why had she even bothered trying to evade her ever vigilant Joseph? "Oh, alright, I admit it. But do you really think Mia – our Mia – accepts anything easily, the girl who rather wanted to run away before assuming the throne?" she asked seriously, before adding a very quiet and rather sad statement, "She becomes so much like me."

Joe knew of course what she meant. He couldn't remember how many times he had seen her hide her true feelings behind a beautiful smile and polite remarks, or even overly friendly behaviour. He was so used to Mia's exasperating behaviour that he hadn't thought anything was amiss. Now he was amazed at how easily Mia had fooled him, even though he always knew when her grandmother was using that trick. Sighing, he had to admit that Mia had learned far more from her grandmother than how to descend stairs without falling, how to wave and how to use a fan. In the end the most prominent feeling was that he should have known.

"So, you think Mia only pretended to be over the shock because she didn't want to hurt Megan's feelings?" he asked wryly. He still couldn't comprehend how much Mia had grown up and into her role. On one hand he was proud of her, but on the other he predicted a difficult life, like the one Clarisse had lead. Joe hoped his wife would now, in marriage and retirement, learn to express her true feelings.

The wife in question nodded her head. "There was definitely a fire in her eyes still. Joseph, she looks up to you ... even loves you. Now you destroyed the hero-like image of you she had built in her mind ..."

Again Joe interrupted her, "Is that how you feel as well?"

Clarisse cast her eyes down, fighting down the tears bricking her eyes. This man was the only one who could catch her off-guard and break through her resolve, and she felt so weak. From childhood on it had been drummed into her head to be strong and always in control of every situation, to keep her feelings under close watch. How could he do that to her?

Then her old strength returned to her. She had nothing to feel guilty about ... least of all her feelings. After all he had always been the one encouraging her to say what was in her heart.

"Yes," she admitted, "it is. I always imagined you would wait for me to be free to love you as I wanted to. Never did it enter my mind that you would seek ... diversion in another woman."

Joe stared at his wife. He understood her ... of course he did, but it had been too hard to see her every day interacting with Rupert, standing close to him, letting him kiss her hand, cheek ... lips. It had nearly killed him inside.

"I will go after Mia. We need to talk and maybe you and I need a moment to sort our feelings out." Joseph spoke quietly, like a broken man. He needed to leave the room, the unspoken accusations, even though he knew he couldn't run from them. She was right. It was unforgivable that he kept Megan's existence from her.

Clarisse's heart went out to him but her rational thought kept her from embracing her Joe. Nodding instead, she agreed, "I think that would be best."

Joe had hoped she would reach out to him, tell him he shouldn't go and that they should work their feelings and problems out together, but she let him go. He hung his head and turned without another word. It hurt to leave her but he knew it would hurt more if he stayed.

Clarisse had half-expected that Joe would take his words back and insist that they talk, but when he simple turned she felt her heart break. He didn't seem to be willing to fight for her.

oOoOoOo

Megan was outside, playing absent-mindedly with Maurice. The dog seemed to notice that her heart wasn't into throwing the ball for him, for he lay down next to her with a soft woof, put the ball in front of him and lay his head on his front paws. With solemn eyes he looked up to the young girl, trying to understand what he had done wrong.

Clarisse stood not far from Megan and observed her dog's thoughtful behaviour. He always sensed when the humans near him were troubled or worried. Up till now she had only witnessed this with herself, Joseph or Charlotte. Mia was sort of a thorn in his paw for him. On the other hand Megan apparently had captured his heart from the beginning, and that was saying something. It meant she could trust that girl and let her into her heart too.

Quietly she walked over and put her hand on the girl's shoulder. Megan jumped a foot high, barely stifling a scream.

"I'm sorry," Clarisse said quickly, feeling it too.

"It's alright, Your Majesty," Megan replied, letting her head fall forward so that her bangs hid her face.

Clarisse softly put a finger under the girl's chin and lifted her face. With a gentle hand she brushed aside her hair, saying quietly, "Don't hide. You are too pretty to hide. And I thought we agreed that you would call me Clarisse ..."

Clarisse felt insecure and wondered how Megan could do that. Up until now the only person who had been able to make her feel that way had been Joseph. She smiled to hide her confusion ... and realized too late that she had done that all her life, even to the people she loved. So she really had kept Joseph at arm's length.

"Why are you so jumpy, anyway, Megan?" she asked softly, playing over her sudden enlightenment.

"May I speak plain?"

It was a cautious question. One Clarisse had heard many times in her years as Queen. Various Prime Ministers, bodyguards, secretaries, foreign dignitaries and Heads of States had asked her the same thing, always highly aware of her position far above them. Now she only nodded, wryly and sadly that even so young a girl knew that in her official position there were some things better left unsaid.

"Of course," she said quietly, casting her eyes down herself.

Megan, in bold move so unusual for her, put her finger under her chin and lifted her face to lock eyes with the formidable older woman.

"Don't hide, Clarisse. Dad told me a lot about you. He has this light in his eyes when your name is mentioned. I never saw that before in a person. My mum never cared for anyone enough to have that. He didn't plan to cheat on you ... yes, that's how he felt even then. I don't know him for long but I know I can trust him. You kept him at bay all the time and he felt the strain of loving you."

Clarisse's eyes brimmed over with tears but she couldn't look away from Joe's eyes in the girl's face. She nodded hesitantly, slowly smiling in answer to the truth in the girl's eyes. So Joe had spoken the truth. He hadn't cheated on her intentionally, like she had first accused him of.

oOoOoOo

Basically Mia started yelling at him the moment she saw Joseph come through the door to her grandmother's office.

"How dare you have a girl? YOU SLEPT WITH A WOMAN NOT MY GRANDMOTHER! You kept Megan a secret, as if you're ashamed of her! YOU SLEPT WITH A WOMAN NOT MY WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL, ENCHANTING GRANDMA! You don't deserve her if you can't appreciate her. You lied to us all, and SLEPT WITH A WOMAN NOT MY GRANDMOTHER and didn't wait for grandma to be free!"

Joe took a deep breath. He had to control his anger or he would be insubordinate to his future Queen. He took another deep breath ... and lost the battle.

"How was I supposed to know she would ever be free? I didn't want her to be embarrassed. You can't imagine what trouble it would have caused if Clarisse had left King Rupert or someone had found out that we have feelings for each other when she was still married to Rupert. ... I care too much for her to embarrass her ... And how was I supposed to know Rupert would die so soon? She was free then ... or so I thought, but she turned me down again and again because she loved Genovia more than me ..."

Mia slapped Joseph with every bit of strength she could muster. "HOW DARE YOU MAKE THAT ALL GRANDMA'S FAULT?"

Joseph had always flattered himself with his almost inhuman patience and that he never got provoked into using violence. Now even that shattered. He grabbed Mia by the arms and shook her slightly. "I NEVER said it was your grandmother's fault but since you mentioned it: yes, she is partly responsible for it!"

Mia jerked herself free of his hold and punched him in the chest. "Let go off me! You stay away from my grandmother or I have you arrested," she yelled irrationally. "I won't let you hurt her again."

Then she whirled around on her heels and fled from the room.

oOoOoOo

Mia ran. She knew it wasn't ladylike but right now she gave a damn about it. She knew Shades was hard on her heels too. She just wanted to turn and yell 'Where have you been when Joe attacked me?', but her anger drove her on. Past her grandmother's greenhouse she ran and past the pavilion where Joe had proposed ...

She suddenly stopped, scowling at the building as if it had caused her anger. She grabbed a rock from the ground and hurled it at the gazebo. It did nothing to improve her temper. She picked up another rock and drew back her arm ... A hand seized her wrist and held her back.

"What do you think you're doing?" a stern voice asked. A voice she knew only too well and had learned not to ignore.

"I'm hurling stones at the symbol of your hurt," she replied to her grandmother.

"Mia, drop that stone!" It was a command, quietly spoken but in a tone that took obedience for granted. She dropped it reluctantly. "Now sit down and let us talk. ... No, Megan, you stay here as well. I think we all need to talk together."

Mia turned and saw Megan stand behind her grandmother. Her head had fallen forward and her hair hid her face, like the first time Mia had seen her.


	16. Women's Great Ambition

_A./N.: Thank you all, my wonderful, loyal reviewers. Namely bluegirl-783, daytonagirl, risingdancer, JUJUChick16, Wish-to-be-Weasley, Veve, PaintMeIntrigued. And again special thanks to my amazing friend and beta in Wales. (I moved her to tears. YAY!) Many parts of this chapter were inspired by the book 'Phillip and Elizabeth'. Actually Mia's letter is really the letter Phillip's mother send her daughter. :) The rest is mine though. :D _

_Enjoy and hopefully review. Next chapter is already started._

16. Women's great ambition

"There is no need for us to talk, grandma," Mia said decisively. Her anger with Joe and over this whole damnable situation evident in her voice. "I took matters in my own hands."

"What did you do?" Clarisse asked wearily.

"I slapped him," Mia said proudly ... before adding rather shame-facedly, "and I told him to stay away from you, or I'd have him arrested." The irrationality of her words finally dawned on her, but still she held her head up high.

"You WHAT?" Clarisse asked incredulously, her voice sharp and her eyes cold. "Why ever would you do such a thing?"

Mia cringed back a little, but stood her ground in the end. "He would only hurt you again!" Mia defended her irrational actions.

Megan narrowed her eyes. It had never been her father's intention to hurt Clarisse in any way. She opened her mouth, her anger on her father's behalf overcoming her shyness, to reproach Princess Mia. Then she caught sight of Clarisse's face. A sad expression in her soft blue eyes, the older woman merely shook her head.

"Oh, Mia, you didn't," she said with an incredibly soft voice. "I think I hurt him worse over the years."

"Does that give him the right to ..." Mia stopped, lost for words.

"To do what, Mia? Cheat on me? I was a married woman then, unavailable to him by any stretch of the imagination. Somehow, as much as it pains me, I can understand." Clarisse took a few deep, calming breaths before doggedly going on. "I never sought out the company of your grandfather, Mia. I was happy to abstain, but Joseph is a man."

"That's no excuse either, grandma," Mia exclaimed.

"No, it's not," Megan inserted herself into the conversation. "But Dad was frustrated, not so much by Clarisse, but by her being unreachable to him and by her behaviour."

Clarisse whipped around, momentarily forgetting her repressed education. Mia stared at Megan uncomprehendingly. "What did he tell you?" Clarisse asked. Immediately she became painfully aware that she was asking far more questions than ever before in her life. It certainly felt this way. And they were questions she should ask her husband and not rely on a youngster to glue her marriage back together before it had really started.

"Well, he told me how you sent him away that day," Megan replied evenly. Her father had told her a great deal about the woman he had fallen in love with. She probably knew more about their relationship than Clarisse would be comfortable with. "You sent him away like a child ... no, worse, like an employee who meant nothing to you."

Clarisse's eyes brimmed over with tears. She had only meant to tease him. How could she have been so mistaken? It had all come out wrong. She saw now that really she had driven her faithful Joe away and into the arms of another woman.

"I had to," she whispered miserably. Her eyes were cast down and her face was turned to the side. She couldn't meet her granddaughter's questioning gaze – she just couldn't. She had always hid that part of her life away from everybody – it seemed also from Joseph. But how could she tell them about her moment of weakness? She shook her head miserably, but mutely. Fighting hard for control, she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. A few tears leaked out, though.

"Grandma?" Mia's voice was gentle – softer than Clarisse ever remembered it being.

"Please," she begged Mia, not sure for what. Did she want to be left alone? No. She had been alone for so long in her life. Did she want to confide in her? She wasn't sure. She had been raised that certain things were not discussed, certainly not with one's children or even grandchildren. But she desperately needed someone to talk to.

"Maybe I can help," Mia suggested insecurely, not sure if she crossed an invisible line and putting too much pressure on her grandmother. "My mum got a letter the night before her wedding to dad. It was from her mother. On what was supposed to be my wedding day she slipped that letter into my hand for me to read. I remember it so clearly. 'Each woman manages and directs her married life herself, just as she would control herself in a profession if she had one and so you see when a girl marries a decent boy, she makes her _own_ happiness with her _own_ judgement and self-control. No marriage entered into, in that spirit, with the most dissimilar characters even, ought to be a failure. A little patience in the first years and one has an enduring happy love and friendship for life and which unlike ordinary friendships will be just as fresh when you are old.' You and Joe have been best friends for so long, grandma, plus you are connected by love that runs deeper than I thought possible for anybody. How could that possibly change just because of a little fling?" Suddenly she stopped. Looking quiet guilty, she turned to Megan.

"Sorry, Megan."

"No, you are absolutely right, Your ..."

"Mia please ... I mean ... we ... we are family, right?"

Megan grinned broadly, happily.

"Yes, I suppose we are."

They looked back at Clarisse, united in their concern for the older woman and in their wish to reassure her.

"I read Molière once. He said something that stuck with me. 'La grande ambition des femmes, est d'inspirer l'amour.'" Megan said quietly, obviously engrossed in a close inspection of her shoes.

"Help me out here, will you?" Mia whispered, frantically trying to remember most of her French lessons.

"The great ambition of women is to inspire love." It was Clarisse's soft voice which supplied the translation. "But I also remember 'And men's dilemma is their inability to hold on to it'. I can't remember who said it, though."

Mia nodded solemnly at that. "But, Grandma, Joe doesn't strike me as the man who would pursue you for years and years and years and then, when he finally has claimed you, decides you weren't worth it."

Clarisse smiled wryly into Mia's eyes. "One set of 'years' would have sufficed, dear," she informed her granddaughter – almost back to normal.

Mia grinned cheekily, and quiet unrepentantly, at her.

"Maybe. I was trying to make a point, tough."

Megan piped up at that as well, "Dad loves you to bits. Just give him a chance to explain."

Clarisse shook her head, though. Before any girl could protest, she held up her hand.

"No, I think Joseph has done enough explaining. It is I who has to explain."

And before either Mia or Megan could say a word, Clarisse turned and began the long walk back to her suite, where she hoped to find Joseph.

oOoOoOo

Charlotte caught up to Joseph as he walked out of Her Majesty's office, looking rather the worst for wear.

"Joseph!" she exclaimed. "Didn't expect you out of the suite so ..." She suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Scrutinising the man in front of her, Charlotte could hardly believe her eyes. This wasn't the Joe she knew. "What happened? Is it Her Majesty?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"I have a daughter," he whispered, feeling guilty all over again, but unable to keep it a secret any longer. He was too tired of fighting all the time, so that it had just slipped from his lips without his volition.

"I ... will ... be ... damned," she whispered. It was worse than she had imagined.

Joseph gulped for air, trying to get enough breath.

"You and me both. And _her_."

"Her?"

"Her, her, _and _her!" Livvy, Megan – and most of all Clarisse, the bloody love of his damnable life. Joseph inhaled deeply, hoping that by the time he let his breath out, he would have composed himself again. Charlotte beat him to it.

"Does Her Majesty know?"

Joseph sighed. After his confession, he had relaxed somewhat, and the natural colour was coming back to his face. He had been a soldier long enough to recognise the inevitable when he saw it.

"She knows, yes."

"How old is she? Your daughter, I mean," Charlotte asked abruptly. Joseph shot her a sharp glance.

"Twelve. And to save your counting backwards, it was 1994. In England."

Charlotte took another breath, finding this one came a little easier.

"Ok. So it – she – it was before you two ... became an item."

"Yes. Before she would commit to me – or even remotely accept the fact she loved me or admitted it to herself."

She could feel the blood rushing to her face. "This is no time for secrets," she said. "Everybody could see she had deep, unwavering feelings for you. I heard her crying, heard her whisper your name in her sleep." She held up her hand to stop him. "I'll tell you – but _you're_ going to tell me about _her_." She jerked her head vaguely in the direction of the garden. "About your daughter."

Joseph pursed his lips, regarding her through narrowed eyes as he thought. Finally he nodded.

"I see no help for it. One thing, though – let us move to a more private place. I don't yet want the whole Palace to know."

"What is her name?" Charlotte asked after a while, as they were walking towards the stables, and then past them.

"Megan."

"Megan," she said, eyes on her shoes as they walked slowly around the outbuildings. "Just Megan?"

"Megan Claire Emily Cooper," Joe agreed.

She pursed her lips.

"Where is her mother now?"

"She died ..."

"Died of what? Shock over your marriage to a Queen when you ...?" She was clearly in a dangerous mood; he was interested to note both Mia's barely controlled temper and Clarisse's sharp tongue at work – the combination was both fascinating and alarming. He hadn't any intention of allowing her to run this interview on her own terms, though.

"Cancer," he said with affected casualness. "Half a year ago."

Charlotte made a small choking noise and stopped dead. She hadn't expected that – and her good heart won out over her shock.

"Her mother's name was Olivia Cooper. I met her on my free day during a visit to Balmoral."

Charlotte relaxed a little, but then suddenly she gripped his arm firmly.

"Did you love her?" she blurted.

What startled him was not the question, but the realisation that everybody seemed to be jumping to the conclusion that he had loved Livvy and then left her to pursue a bigger fish. Why, he wondered. Had he no right to be human? He was a man, and may he burn in hell for it, and had needs? His control and patience had dwindled away a little more every day he had seen Clarisse, been in her presence without being able to touch her, love her openly.

"No, I didn't," he said shortly.

Charlotte's fingers drummed restlessly on his arm; she would have pulled free, but he put a hand on hers to still her.

"Damn," she muttered, but ceased fidgeting, and walking on, matching the length of his wider stride. "How could you make love to her then?" she asked at last.

Joe laughed, in sheer incredulity at the question.

"You think, I haven't asked that myself?"

A look of puzzlement flashed in her eyes – he would have sworn that if she had spoken, the word would have been _"So?"_

"I was drunk, frustrated and thinking ... not with my brain," he offered.

He could see things moving in her eyes; she had never been good at hiding her feelings. He saw the wryness in her eyes, a moment before the slow, wry smile touched her lips.

"Is that all?" she questioned. "A generalisation – a cliché."

He grunted in response.

"Truth be told, I don't know," he admitted. "I can't say what has ridden me that night. I was lonely, she was there and offering." He shrugged his shoulders, looking down at his shoes.

Her turn to grunt at that; a highly expressive, if totally unfeminine sound. He sighed, and took her hand again.

"Do you think Clarisse will forgive me? Ever?" he asked, looking imploringly into her eyes, searching almost desperately for reassurance. "I can't see how ..."

"_But that was in another country_," she quoted softly. "_And besides, the wench is dead._"

"Very true," he said quietly.

Charlotte was quiet for a few moments as well before she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"I have never seen Her Majesty as happy as the day she married you. Joseph, you know how she was raised. I think you know that far better than I do. She never said 'I love you' without meaning it. When she walked down the aisle and said her vows, she meant them. I believe, strongly so, that she meant them whole-heartedly and more so as when she spoke them with King Rupert. She is loyal. She is sane. She is sensible. She has her feet on the ground, and knows that married life is not easy, especially in the beginning. There is a phase of adjustment to each other ... and you are in it. Surely, Megan came as a shock, but Her Majesty will deal with her feelings towards the girl." Charlotte paused in her speech and inhaled slowly. "And you. When I once asked you what you considered to be your lifetime's prime achievement, what did you say? I will refresh your memory. You said, to have served my Queen all her life without fail and guarded her life to the last." Another deep breath; she got worked up in her urge to convince him. "The Prime Minister once said to me, 'Joseph is the only man in the world who treats the Queen simply as another human being'. After San Francisco he added, 'They're good together. They're good for one another. They always have been. What they have for one another is the greatest respect and deep love. Deep love that goes back a long, long way'." She smiled indulgently at his shocked face. "What, Joseph? Your secret hasn't been that secretive. I saw you once, three years ago, in the interval of an opera performance, as you looked at one another across a crowded room, and smiled. I caught then a glimpse of the conspiracy – the shared secret – that has sustained you over 35 years of staying hidden. It was seeing you in that brief moment, apart yet together, that made me realise how deep your love runs. But don't worry, it was only obvious to the few closest to you." She smiled again at him, then put her hand on his arm, locking eyes. She spoke earnestly now, "Life is complicated. Marriage is not easy. But, somehow, you have made your unusual relationship work for so long. Don't give up now when you finally reached your highest goal. You have to respect one another for what you are. You are active. She is passive. But you both are strong. She is strong in her love to you. Passivity is a kind of control: control by what one doesn't do. And she hasn't yet annulled the marriage. Don't misjudge her passivity or hesitancy as giving up on you. She only needs to come to terms with the rapid changes in her life recently."

Joseph had tears in his eyes as he looked into his friend's warm eyes. He had had no idea his friends and colleagues were so supportive about their marriage, had taken such an interest in their quiet, little romance over the years. He felt deeply honoured and privileged to have such a wise, young woman as his friend ... even when she, as she had just done, bashed some sense into his thick head.

"You are right. I was feeling sorry for myself. What are a few days more? After all I fought for Clarisse for years."

And before Charlotte could say another word, Joe turned and began the long walk back to their suite, where he hoped to find Clarisse.


	17. Last Secret

_A./N.: Hello my friends. Thank you all for your reviews, bluegirl-783, Veve, JUJUChick 16, risingdancer, Wish-to-be-Weasley, PaintMeIntrigued. They are much appreciated. __And a big hug to Honkytonkangle. She submitted my 100th Review for this story. Isn't she amazing? :)_

_And as always thank you, Katie, for betaing. I hope the additions meet with your approval. ;)_

17. Last Secret

Clarisse hastened through the familiar corridors of the palace towards her suite. She couldn't get there fast enough, but Queen's never run! Her need to see Joseph and make things right with him far out-weighted her self-imposed propriety. Rounding the final corner, she saw Joseph coming from the other end of the corridor. Immediately abandoning her prim and proper self, Clarisse acted like a woman in love, hurtling herself down corridor and throwing herself into Joseph's arms.

Joe saw Clarisse the moment she walked around the corner. He had expected her to be huffy still and a little distant, with her usual mask firmly in place. What he wasn't prepared for was seeing Clarisse shed her stern behaviour and come running into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck, driving the wind from his lungs with the force of her impact, and kissed him passionately. His own arms immediately, and quiet without any conscious thought, wrapped around her, drawing her impossibly closer to him. His kiss matched hers in passion and unvocalized love.

"I'm so sorry, my darling ..." he finally said, drawing away from her mouth reluctantly, sorry to break their connection.

Clarisse placed a finger on his lips, silencing him before he could go on. She had an apology of her own. "No, it is I who is so very sorry ..."

Joseph kissed her swiftly , closing her mouth effectively and ending her rant.

"I should have told you right from the beginning ..."

Again Clarisse interrupted him, putting her head against his chest, saying, "I should have trusted you after all those years ..."

Joe put his finger under her chin and lifted her face up again to meet his gaze. Shaking his head sorrowfully, he interrupted her once again, "No, no, don't do that to you, you have every right to feel betrayed ..."

This time Clarisse shook her head. She kissed him gently and cupped his cheek in her hand, drawing him closer to her. Before there had been urgency in her eyes, now there was only deep love, slightly over-layered by fear.

"Not after what I've done to you."

"What do you mean?" he asked surprised, holding her a little away from him, but still with his arms locked around her waist. He would never again let her go. "You have done nothing to me."

Clarisse nodded miserably, feeling an embarrassed blush creep over her face. "I pushed you away time and time again ... I pushed you away that night when you met this Livvy ..." She trailed off, again experiencing this incredibly strong jealousy, and hurting with the memory. "But there was a reason ..."

"Clarisse ..."

"No, Joseph, please, I need to say this." Clarisse took a deep breath and slowly reached behind her, disentangling herself softly from his arms.

She then took one of his hands in hers and led the way into their suite, tucking lightly on his hand for him to follow her. He would follow her everywhere ... but he was also a little apprehensive about this last revelation of hers.

"Sit down." She motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa while she began to pace the small room between the small table in front of it and the fireplace. "Megan let slip that you felt betrayed by me," she held up a hand to quieten him, "by the way how I sent you away that evening in Balmoral."

Clarisse stopped, standing in front of him with her hands outstretched in a helpless gesture, her eyes pleading, imploring him to understand.

"I had to. I would have betrayed everything ... my country, my husband ... myself."

Tears were coming to her eyes but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. Wiping her cheeks almost angrily, she focused on Joseph again.

"I had felt the sparks between us from the moment we met, and with each day you guarded me, were close to me, closer than anybody else, even on an emotional level, it became harder to resist this inexplicable pull you had on me. In Balmoral Elizabeth noticed little changes in me. We were away from Genovia – away from Rupert." She paused, obviously recalling their trip to England. Swallowing, she forced herself to go on. "I thought myself safe to open up a little more. But you only drew me more into you. Only a glimpse into her eyes and I saw you loved me, really loved me." She swallowed again, this time because she was affected by her own emotions. "Only the slight tremble in your hand as you placed it on the small of my back and I knew you desired me." Her own eyes darkened, betraying how much he affected her own libido.

Turning around, away from him, she hugged herself. Her shoulders were hunched a little, defensive. She wasn't shutting him out of her life this time, though, rather did she need to find the strength to confide in him.

"I wanted nothing more than to throw myself into your arms that day. The night before we had danced together, more dances than was proper. Philip noticed, I saw it in his eyes. The rest of the night I had lain awake ... imagining you in bed with me ... resorting to ..." She trailed off, too embarrassed to go on.

"When I saw you the next morning, I knew that I couldn't be near you and be trusted. I sent you away to stay faithful to my country and husband."

There she had said it. She had confided in him. The last secret was out.

Joseph started at his wife's back. He was absolutely speechless. He had felt her slight tremors under his touch, had seen the changes in her himself ... had yearned for her to make a decision. She had made it, and he had thought she had rejected him. He had been so gravely mistaken.

Angry with himself, he wanted nothing more than to bang his head against a wall until it bled and the dull pain numbed the pain in his heart and drowned out his guilty conscience. He should have known! He should have understood that her education only allowed this one decision! She was raised a God-fearing catholic to who the scared vows of the marriage were holy!

Getting up, he approached Clarisse carefully. His hands went to her shoulder, laying there heavily, letting her know he stood behind her. Slowly he turned her around. Locking eyes with her, he noticed the tears.

"Please believe me, Joseph, it was the hardest thing I ever did," she whispered, "and then I had to turn you down one last time ..."

"I know what you mean. I try not to look back myself, come to that," he interrupted. He stroked her back.

"But if I had," she said, staring down at the smooth linen of his shirt, "if I had – we might have had more time.

The words hung in the air between them like an accusation, a reminder of the bitter years of being so close together yet separated by their roles. Finally he sighed, deeply, and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his.

"No. I told you to go back to Rupert. Shall I blame you for doing as I asked, Clarisse? No."

"But we might have had more time!" Clarisse repeated stubbornly. "We might have ..."

He silenced her with a gentle finger to her lips. Then he bent and put his mouth on hers. It was a warm and very soft kiss. "Never think back to these dark hours. We have the rest of our lives to be together and we never have to hide again," he whispered softly. His eyes met hers steadily, searching. "If we have no more than the last few days, it is enough."

"Not for me, it isn't!" Clarisse exclaimed, and he laughed.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said. The tension broken a little, she decided to keep away for the moment from the painful contemplation of lost time and opportunity. Instead she teased him slightly, tears still in her eyes, "You are a very chivalrous, and understanding man, Joseph."

"Me? No!" He rubbed a hand over his head, his habit when thinking or embarrassed.

"Believe me. I know you. She spoke with more certainty than she had ever felt.

"Do you, then?" he asked, but a faint smile shadowed his mouth.

"I think so."

The smile on his lips widened, and he opened his mouth to reply. Before he could speak, though, there was a knock upon the door.

"Enter," both Clarisse and Joseph called at the same time, used to put their private life on the backburners for the call of duty.

Olivia curtsied before her Queen and then to Joseph. "Ma'am, dinner is ready."

Joseph turned to his wife and kissed her softly on the cheek. "I will get the girls ... we will talk after dinner."

Clarisse nodded, but before Joseph could turn away she cupped his cheek and gently kissed his lips.

oOoOoOo

Megan looked after Clarisse. She wasn't sure if it was completely safe for her dad to face her yet, but she supposed the newlyweds had to solve their problems alone. Turning around to Mia, she was surprised to see the same look of concern in her brown eyes she was sure hers held as well.

"I guess we give them a head start, until we send in the cavalry to check who has survived ..." Mia muttered wryly, "I don't want to intrude on them again."

Megan nodded enthusiastically. She after all had made a similar experience.

"I doubt Dad would hurt her, though," she said quietly. "He doesn't seem ..."

"He is _not_," Mia said with conviction. "You know he was the one to come after me in the night I wanted to run away ..."

"You WHAT?" Megan exclaimed, sounding surprisingly like Clarisse.

Mia nodded, rather shame-faced. "I was too afraid to face the music ... erm, the press and renounce the throne publicly. Back then I justified my actions with 'I don't want to disappoint grandma again', but the truth was I just wanted to get back to being little, invisible Mia." She heaved a sigh, looking down, cheeks flaming with shame.

"Your dad pulled me through and was, as always, right there when I needed him. I guess it was the same for grandma ... just for a way longer time and also quite different. ... I mean he is hot ..."

"Oh God," Megan moaned, hiding her face in her hands.

"Never mind," Mia quickly changed the subject. "In the limousine he sat in the backseat with me. Shades drove the car. He looked into my eyes ..."

_Joseph had, under cover of his long black coat, dialled Charlotte's number over and over but couldn't get through because of the storm. He gave up, praying silently that they would get to the Consulate in time to prevent any catastrophe. Eyeing his young Princess, he was amazed by his strong protective feelings for her ... feelings that had nothing to do with the girl's father, a young man who had looked up to him and considered him a foster father, or the love he felt for her wonderful grandmother. For the first time he looked at Mia a saw her for who she was in herself and not who she was compared to._

_ "Princess, know that whatever your decision tonight ..."_

_ "I decided to accept my claim on the throne, Joe, no need to worry."_

_Joe took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around Mia, drawing her head closer to rest on his shoulder. "Mia, mi cría, has it ever entered your mind that I was worried for you ... not Genovia?" he asked gently. "Your grandmother and mother are worried sick. They are imagining all sorts of scenarios, mi churumbel."_

_Mia hid her face in his shoulder. "Sorry," sounded muffled from the folds of his cloak._

_After a few moments of silence, he lifted her face up to meet his eyes._

_ "You said you accept the throne?"_

_ "Yes," Mia nodded emphatically._

_Joe sighed in relief. "That is good. I always believed in you. Mark my words, one day Genovia will say that you were its greatest Queen. I am very proud of you, princessa mía." With gentleness and grandfatherly love in his eyes, he drew away from her, bowing to her out of his sitting position. Then he slid down on the floor, kneeling before his future Queen. "I, Joseph Elizondo, do become your liege man of life and limp," he swore solemnly._

"I, of course, ruined the moment by breaking out in undignified tears and throwing myself into his arms," Mia finished her story, grinning sheepishly at the younger girl.

oOoOoOo

Joseph saw the door to Clarisse's office swing open and Clarisse slip out, looking guiltily over her shoulder as though fearing pursuit. Where was she bound? She didn't see him; she turned and hurried toward her greenhouse, disappearing behind a corner.

"Go on in, you two," he said to Mia and Megan.

Then he followed his wife curiously.

Ah. She had seen to some important papers in her office; now she was going to her garden before it got completely dark. He caught a glimpse of her against the sky on the path behind the greenhouse, the last of the daylight caught like cobwebs in her hair. Gardeners would already have tended to her precious flowers, but it made no difference. She always went to see how things were, no matter how short a time she had left in her busy schedule.

He understood the urge. He would not feel entirely himself until he had checked all the roosters of the Security Team and all cameras.

For a few moments he just stood there on the path, contemplating the major steps ... leaps, really ... they had made in their relationship today. He understood her, always had, and yet sometimes, more often than not, she surprised him. Earlier today she had thrown herself at him in abandonment of her role in front of her staff. A few days earlier he would have thought this impossible. And yet it had felt only natural to catch her and let her snuggle close to him. It had felt wonderful.

He raised his head and saw her coming down the path from the garden. A gust of wind blew her skirt up a little from behind and made her hair swirl with the stirring of it, sparked with the light of the setting sun.

Moved by sudden impulse, he stepped deeper into the shadow of the greenhouse and began to look about.

Normally, he paid attention only to vegetation as a means of someone else hiding in it. Once he began looking with an eye to aesthetics, though, he found himself surprised at the variety at hand.

Carefully he picked up a set of garden scissors and cut a few of her favourite red roses, remembering the colour rising in Clarisse's cheeks whenever he complemented her. Walking through the rows of flowers his gaze fell on red tulips. They were a darker shade of red, reminding him of her soft lips. Then he caught sight of pure white orchids, as clear and perfect as her skin. And a clump of clover ... beautiful but modest like his beloved. He wrapped oak leaves around the bundle of flowers to symbolise his own loving embrace of her, all of her.

Just in time; she was coming round the corner of the greenhouse. Lost in thought, she passed within a foot or two of him, not seeing him.

"Clarisse," he called softly, and she turned, eyes narrowed against the rays of the sinking sun, then wide and clear blue with surprise at the sight of him.

"I'm sorry," he said, and held out the small bouquet of leaves and flowers.

"Oh," she said. She looked at the flowers again, then at him, and the corners of her mouth trembled, as though she might laugh or cry, but wasn't sure which. She reached then, and took the plants from him, her fingers small as they brushed his hand.

"Oh, Joseph – they are wonderful." She came up on her toes and kissed him, warm and sultry, and he wanted more, but she was hurrying away back into the palace, the silly flowers clasped to her bosom as though they were gold.

He felt pleasantly foolish, and foolishly pleased with himself. The taste of her was still on his mouth.

oOoOoOo

Clarisse hurried into her office, clutching her wonderful bouquet. Mia looked up from a few papers when she heard her grandmother.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious, dear?" her grandmother shot back.

"Well, yeah, I suppose, but isn't it a bit small and rather ... ungainly?"

Clarisse traced the petals of a rose with her finger, feeling her heart swell tenfold.

"Maybe," she said, smiling. "But that's the only posy I've ever been given by Joseph ... and I intend to keep it."

Mia chuckled then and shook her head. "Really, you two are acting like teenagers," she scolded softly, but an indulgent smile adorned her face.

oOoOoOo

Clarisse woke suddenly, too worked up after the day's events to really find peace. She had kicked away sheet and quilt in her disordered sleep, and lay sprawled with her nightgown rucked up above her thighs – but still her skin pulsed with heat, waves of smoldering warmth that flowed over her.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, feeling dizzy and disembodied. Her hair was damp and stuck to her neck.

Joseph was still asleep; she could see the humped mound of his upturned shoulder. He shifted slightly and mumbled something, but then lapsed into the regular deep breaths of sleep. Clarisse needed air, but didn't want to wake him. She stepped softly across to the door, and into the smaller room of her walk-in closet.

It was a small room, but it had a large window, in order to balance the ones in her bedroom. This one stood wide open, and she could feel drafts of night air drifting through it, swirling across the floor, caressing her bare legs. Urgent for the coolness of it, Clarisse stripped off her nightgown and sighed in relief as the draft skimmed upward over hips and breasts and arms.

The heat was still there, though, hot waves pulsing over her skin with each heartbeat. Fumbling in the dark, she drew back the light curtains, gasping for the great draughts of cool night air that flooded in upon her.

From there, she could see above the lawns, the gazebo, almost to the faint outline of her greenhouse. The wind stirred the treetops guarding the gates and obscuring the sight on the palace. She closed her eyes and stood still; within a minute or two, the heat was gone, leaving her damp but peaceful.

She didn't want to go back to bed yet; her hair was damp, and the sheets where she had lain would still be clammy. She leaned naked on the sill, the down-hairs of her body prickling pleasantly as her skin cooled.

She cupped her breasts gently, liking the soft, full weight of them. She remembered what they'd been like when she was very young; small hard swellings. They were different now – and yet peculiarly the same.

This was not the discovery of a new and unimagined thing; but rather only a new awareness, the acknowledgment of something that had risen steadily under Joe's appreciative gaze.

For long moments she just stood there, letting the cool air caress her. Then she saw Joseph, standing still. He made no noise, but she felt him at once; a warmth, a thickening, in the cool air of the room.

"Are you well, cholita?" he asked softly from the doorway.

"Yes, fine." She spoke in a whisper. "Just needed a breath of air; I didn't mean to wake you."

He came closer, a naked ghost, smelling of sleep. "I always wake these days when you do, mi amor; I sleep ill without you by my side." He touched her forehead briefly. "You are a bit flushed. You're sure you're alright?"

"I was hot; I couldn't sleep. But yes, I'm all right. And you?" She touched his face; his skin was warm with sleep.

He came to stand beside her at the window, looking out into the late summer night. The moon was full, and the birds were restless. He chuckled softly.

"You smell wonderfully."

"I doubt it ... I sweated a little ..."

"Mhm." He took her hand and lifted it to his nose, sniffing delicately. "Roses," he said, "and tulips. Something exotic ... orchids. Yes, and clover." His tongue flicked out like a snake's, touching her knuckles. "Daffodils – and something woody. Oak leaves."

"Not fair at all," she said, trying to get her hand back. "You know perfectly well what flowers were in that posy you gave me."

"Mhm?" He turned her hand over and sniffed at her palm, then her wrist and up her forearm. "There is something tart and acidy. Now what have you been up to?"

"You guess, since you're so good at it."

"Ink."

"Darn." She was still trying to pull away, but only because the stubble on his face tickled the sensitive skin of her upper arm. He smelled his way up her arm into the hollow of her shoulder, making her squeak as his moustache drifted across her skin.

"Eau de femme," he murmured, and she heard the laughter in his voice. "Ma petite fleur."

"And I _bathed_, too," she said ruefully.

"Yes, with the jasmine bath-oil," he said, a slight tone of surprise in his voice as he sniffed at the hollow of her collarbone. She gave a small, high-pitched yelp, and he reached up to lay a large, warm hand across her mouth.

He straightened a little, and leaned close, so the roughness of his whiskers brushed her cheek. His hand fell away, and she felt the softness of his lips against her temple, the butterfly touch of his tongue on her skin.

"And salt," he said, very softly, his breath warm on her face. "There is salt on your face, and your lashes are wet. Did you cry, cholita?"

"No," Clarisse said, though she had a sudden, irrational urge to do just that. "No, I ... I was ... hot."

She wasn't any longer; her skin was cool; cold where the night-draft from the window chilled her backside.

"Ah, but here ... Mhm." He was on his knees now, one arm about her waist to hold her still, his nose buried in the hollow between her breasts. "Oh," he said, and his voice had changed again.

Clarisse didn't normally wear perfume to bed, but, many years ago, Joseph had brought her a special oil from his vacation to his home, made with orange flowers, jasmine, vanilla beans, and cinnamon. She had only a tiny vial, and wore a small dab infrequently – for occasions that she thought might perhaps be special ... like that one evening in Balmoral ...

"You wanted to seduce me," he said ruefully. "And I fell asleep without even touching you. I'm sorry, mi amor. You should have said."

"You were tired." His hand had left her mouth. She stroked his head, smoothing the fringe of hair at the base of his head with gentle fingers. He laughed, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her bare stomach.

"You could raise me from the dead for that, Clarisse, and I wouldn't mind it."

He stood up then, facing her, and even in the dim light she could see that no such desperate measures on her part would be required.

His hands closed on her waist and he lifted her suddenly, setting her down on the broad windowsill. She gasped at contact with the cool wood, reflexively grasping the window frame on either side.

"What on earth are you doing?"

He didn't bother answering; it was an entirely rhetorical question, in any case.

"Eau de femme," he murmured, his soft beard brushing across her thighs as he knelt. "Parfum d'amour, mhm?"

The cool breeze lifted her hair, drew it tickling across her neck like the lightest of lover's touches. Joseph's hands were firm on the curve of her hips; she was in no danger of falling, and yet she felt the dizzy drop behind her, the clear and endless night, with its star-strewn empty sky into which she might fall and go on falling, a tiny speck, blazing hotter and hotter with the friction of her passage, bursting finally into the incandescence of a shooting ... star.

"Ssh," Joseph murmured, far off. He was standing now, his hands on her waist, and the moaning noise might have been the wind, or her. His fingers brushed her lips. They might have been matches, striking flames against her skin. Heat danced over her, belly and breast, neck and face, burning in front, cool behind.

She wrapped her legs around him, one heel settled in the cleft of his buttocks, the solid strength of his hips between her legs her only anchor.

"Let go," he said in her ear. "I'll hold you." She did let go, and leaned back on the air, safe in his hands.


	18. Coronation Chitters

A./N.: I know it has been ages since I updated and I'm sorry. I had finals in University and everything was just going nuts. I hope I can make it up with this long chapter. Read & Review & Enjoy. Oh, btw, I used backup information from Queen Elizabeth II.'s coronation to fill out Mia's.

18. Coronation chitters

Mia was a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth in her suite. At her supposed wedding day she had been rather resigned instead of excited. This step today, though, was so much more important. This step would change her life forever. She would be Queen of Genovia, unable to hide behind her grandmother anymore.

But it also meant that she would finally reach the goal she had been working towards for 6 years now. Trembling from nerves, Mia went to her vanity and grabbed her robe. She carelessly threw it over her nightgown and hastened from her room; suddenly feeling suffocated.

Somehow her feet carried her to the Throne room. When she blinked in the dim light and tried to get her bearings, she was drawn to the picture of her father. His brown eyes – so much like hers – looked kindly down on her, seemingly encouraging her to take this final step. This time, though, Mia needed more than just a fatherly advice. Her gaze swept down the row of pictures – her ancestors – and she remembered her brave words to her grandmother. "I want my chance to make a change." Where was that bravery now?

With a heartfelt sigh, Mia collapsed onto the Throne. She buried her head in her hands and breathed deeply.

After a while Mia's right hand dropped down. Minutes later she felt a wet nose hesitantly touch her hand. When she glanced out between her fingers, she saw Maurice, thrusting his head under her hand in silent support, and an equally silent Megan sitting on the floor before the pedestal.

"Morning," Megan mumbled sleepily, holding up a cup of steaming tea to Mia. "They had Clarisse's tea ready in the kitchen. I'm sure she won't mind sharing with you."

Mia chuckled. "Thank you, Megan, I could use some. Man, it's cold in here." She leaned forward, scratching Maurice's ear, and took the offered tea with her other hand.

oOoOoOo

Joe woke reluctantly. It was too nice being snuggled up next to Clarisse, her legs seductively tangled with his. Carefully, in case he would wake her, he turned on his side towards her. Immediately he felt her hand cup his cheek in a calming gesture.

"Sh, my love," she mumbled, her voice low and a little hoarse from her own sleep.

Joe smiled happily and kissed the inside of her wrist. When he opened his eyes at last, he caught Clarisse staring intently at him, scrutinizing his face as if committing it to memory. This woman was truly a mystery to him ... but one he would dedicate the rest of his life to unravel. Her eyes travelled to his and she blushed a little in embarrassment. Joe, though, smiled sweetly at her and raised his head to kiss her gently.

"Morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?" he asked, twinkling at her.

Clarisse's blush intensified, but an answering smile crept onto her lips. The sheets were still tangled around them from their vigorous snuggling after they had stumbled back into their bed. She hadn't slept long, but wonderfully peaceful, wrapped securely in Joseph's arms. Languidly she moved closer to Joseph, seductively wriggling her hips against his, pressing her body into her husband's and melding herself to fit him perfectly.

"Wonderful," she murmured throatily.

Joseph smiled warmly and traced his hands down her sides to her hips. Thoughtfully he drew patterns there with his fingers, lightly tickling her. Clarisse kissed him softly on his cheeks, lips, and throat.

"Joseph?"

"Mhm," he answered, still absent-mindedly.

"Not that I'm complaining, but I am trying to seduce you and you seem miles away," Clarisse's voice was warm and teasing. She tickled his sides to further get his attention. "Penny for your thoughts, darling."

Joe actually blushed a bit and turned his head away from her. "Oh nothing ... it's silly really," he fumbled for words.

His wife was intrigued now. He wasn't usually flustered, and had always told her straight out what bothered him.

"Is it about the girls?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"What?" Joe turned back around, surprised. "What about them? I thought they had digested the shock and are now cautiously approaching the other."

"Yes, they are. I was just trying to figure out what might be bothering you," Clarisse defended herself. "Well, you're not giving me much to work with."

He sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around his wife again, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his, and preventing her from getting away from him.

"Don't misunderstand, please," he warned. "I was wondering why you changed your mind and married me."

"Do you regret it?" she asked hoarsely, dreading the answer. Her body had stiffened at his question, fearing he would leave her again.

"No," he answered solemnly. "I thought you might regret it ... because of Megan and all. When you gave me your answer, you seemed convinced you were needed and could never leave Mia to deal with the Crown, that your duty was to her and your country."

Clarisse listened closely and had nodded from time to time. Now she sat up carefully and kissed the tip of his nose. "I admit Megan came as quite a shock, but for you as well as for me. The news just threw me for a moment, but I have come around, truly, I have. Megan is a very sweet, charming girl and now we are her family. I am sure we will work something out." She smiled warmly at him, her eyes sparking happily but a bit shyly as well. When she had found the nerve to imagine life with Joseph it had been easy, filled with laughter and love – everything her life so far had been devoid of. Now that they were debarking on a future together, she realized that they still had obligations and problems to overcome. She was surprised that nothing had really changed since they had said 'I do' – except their sleeping arrangements, maybe. "As to why I changed my mind; I simply realized that I couldn't see you walk away from me. This realization came to me the moment you turned around and walked out of the door – out of our life. In church Mia stood up to Parliament, Mabrey, and a century old law, making it clear to everyone that she wouldn't allow anybody to dictate her life. I realized for the first time what you had told me many times before; that my whole life had been planned out by others, that duty to my country and Crown had dictated my every step. Mia's words simply pushed me in your direction."

Joe drew her closer to him again, his hands on each side of her face. His lips sensually brushing against hers, he pressed her body flush to his hard plains. Gently his lips moved on hers, coaxing her to respond to him. A soft moan escaped her and was swallowed by him. His tongue darted out, licking her bottom lip, begging for entrance which was quickly granted. They tasted each other languidly, simply enjoying each other's closeness.

After a while an incessant beeping sound was heard from Joe's nightstand. Shades, still insecure in his new job, and today especially, was calling Joe in for help. Clarisse chuckled, her lips still on Joe's, before she reluctantly slid off her husband, reminding herself rather sternly that Mia would probably be a basket case so close to her coronation. Joe sighed but swung his legs out of bed, grabbing Clarisse's hand in the process and tugging her out of bed behind him. Again they bowed to their obligations, but soon he would have her in his arms, alone on their honeymoon – just her and him – and Megan.

oOoOoOo

Mia still sat rather dejectedly on the Throne, sipping her tea silently. Megan was cuddling Maurice on the floor before her, keeping his paws away from the pot of tea. She didn't know what to say to the older girl. They hadn't exactly been best friends at first glance. She wanted to help, though, always being the compassionate kind of person.

"Man, I wish I knew what to do," Mia burst out, "I mean I'm not ready yet. My dad should be sitting here." Her hand hit the Throne's armrest, which she obviously regretted immediately for she stroked it afterwards.

Unbeknowst to the girls, Clarisse had been rounding the corner into the Throne Room, stepping back again at Mia's outburst. Usually she wouldn't approve of spying, but she wanted to know if she had really made the right decision and Mia was ready to assume the Throne. Sneaking a glance around the corner, she saw Megan slide across the floor closer to Mia until she could place her arms on Mia's lap. She placed her head on her arms and looked up at Mia with soulful eyes. Smiling shyly up at Mia, Megan said quietly, "You do know what you are doing. According to Dad you made your decision a long time ago. When you decided to be a princess of Genovia, you also accepted to become Queen ... eventually."

"Well, yeah, but so soon?" Mia was still unconvinced – and amazed at Megan's insight and calm. That girl was definitely more grown up than she was. She showed this now. Instead of saying anything further, she simply lay her head down and waited. "I guess you're right," Mia admitted quietly. "Just freaking out here."

"Why?"

Mia's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "What do you mean 'why'?" she asked incredulously. "I will be Queen of a country ... I mean lots of responsibilities, duties ... never a quiet moment to yourself!" Mia really seemed agitated. Her muscles were tense as if she was readying herself to jump up and pace the room.

"And you just figured that out?" Megan asked softly. "You prepared yourself for this job for years now. Mia, you were willing to marry a stranger, enabling you to take over the Throne. And Mabrey? You kicked his butt in front of Parliament, your country, the international press. The orphans have a home now because of you. If anybody's ready for this job, it's you."

Mia's eyes stung with tears and she didn't attempt to stop their flow. Clarisse, herself, felt tears coming to her eyes. She agreed with Megan from the bottom of her heart. Slowly she moved forward and positioned herself in the middle of the room. Rupert's portrait stared coldly down on her and she wanted nothing more than to snap her fingers at him and voice a loud 'HA!' She knew that he would not have believed in their grandchild the same way she did. Mia's exclamation of 'Gramma!' drew her out of her thoughts.

"Morning, dear," she greeted the young woman warmly, a soft smile curling her lips. Surging forward, she sat down on the steps before the Throne with Megan. Then her eyes fell on the tray with what she assumed was her usual morning tea. She quirked her eyebrow and had her suspicions affirmed.

"I thought you wouldn't mind," Megan mumbled, blushing and hiding her face behind her hair.

Clarisse reached out and stroked Megan's hair out of her face. "I don't mind," she reassured, then she turned to her granddaughter. "Mia, there is no reason for you to be scared of today. You are better prepared than I was at my coronation." She shrugged her shoulders. "Back then the first and foremost duty of a Queen consort was to produce heirs and to support her husband. I never took any political curses in University, or learned about economy and trade. All I know about this job I learned by doing. After Philippe's and Rupert's deaths I had no other choice as to learn how to run a country. Many sleepless nights were spent on pouring over books, trying to catch up. Why do you suppose I work so hard? Because I have to do more. Most of the time I have to read treaties twice or even thrice to understand them. You know the vocabulary and the legal truisms."

More tears leaked from Mia's eyes and, before Clarisse knew what had hit her, flung herself into her grandmother's arms, nearly knocking her over and driving the air from her lungs. "Mia!"

"Oh, Gramma, I love you and thank you, thank you, thank you. I won't let you down. You'll see, I'll rock as a queen. I knock 'em dead."

"Oh, motormouth, stop it. You're making me dizzy," Clarisse laughed, hugging Mia to her. It was the first time she used Mia's nickname. Mia's laughter joined hers and for a moment they forgot about the seriousness of the day.

oOoOoOo

Sebastian Motaz sat in his first audience with his new Queen. Calmly he watched his sovereign pace and fidget a little, before he got up and bowed deeply to her. Mia seemed taken aback at first, but then she inclined her head and acknowledged his show of respect. She calmed down gradually to the point when she could sit down and regard her Prime Minister seriously.

"I am truly sorry, Prime Minister. Today is very hectic indeed," she explained, before approaching the reason for the meeting. "You have a few issues to be discussed before the coronation ceremony?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Motaz was impressed by the ease with which Princess Mia had slipped into her Queen persona. The fidgeting tween was gone and a poised, controlled young woman sat in front of him ... so very much like her grandmother, he had been told. "It is an old Genovian custom that a new ruler starts his or her reign with a show of mercy or good will. Your grandfather gave the von Trokens their title and assets back." Mia frowned slightly at this news and Sebastian elaborated. "King Gregory IV., your great-great-grandfather, disowned the von Trokens and stripped them off their title after they attempted a coup d'état to take over the Throne."

"Yes. I remember now. It was in my history books of Genovia and I talked about it with my grandmother," said Mia, enlightenment showing on her features. Then she turned very serious again, pensively mulling over what else Sebastian had said. "What you're saying is that I should ... pardon? ... a political enemy?" she asked slowly.

"It is up to you, Your Highness," Motaz answered evasively. He wouldn't burden Princess Mia which the talk of his fellow Parliamentarians, some of them clamouring to have Mabrey released. They thought that Queen Clarisse had acted too hastily and on personal feelings alone. Mabrey was still an influential man and politician.

Mia thought along similar lines, but for different reasons. Nicholas hadn't mentioned his uncle since the debacle in church, but Mia had seen the sadness in his eyes. Arthur Mabrey was his only living relative after all ... and the 'only' crime he had committed was insulting her grandmother – even though, for her, that was reason enough for him to rot in jail. That sentiment was unprofessional, though.

"Release Arthur Mabrey," she finally ordered, quietly but with a sure voice. A sigh escaped her nonetheless. "A week in jail surely was enough torture for his inflated ego," she wanted to reassure herself.

Sebastian heaved a sigh of his own, but acquiesced to his future Queen's wishes. The conservatives in Parliament would win again.

oOoOoOo

Paolo had done his level best with both royal ladies. Mia's brown mane had been tamed into a mass of curls, which would cushion the weight of the Crown. Clarisse's short hair had been less trouble, but Paolo had added an elaborate hairpiece for elegance.

Now both women stood together in Clarisse's living room. Mia was no fidgeting, nervous girl anymore. Poise and elegance radiated from her, and she held herself proudly. It seemed to her grandmother that she had fully embraced her destiny, and seemed to carry less without the added weight of an arranged marriage. Pride washed over her as she regarded Mia, wishing fervently that Philippe could be here to witness this moment.

Mia observed her grandmother from under her eyelashes, surprised to see tears suddenly pool in her eyes. Was it sadness over leaving a large part of her life behind? No, apparently it wasn't, for Mia now recognized the faraway look in her grandma's eyes. It was the same look – a mix of happiness and sadness and longing – she was confronted with whenever she asked after her father. Quietly Mia stepped forward and embraced her grandma, gently drawing her out of her memories and back to the present time.

"I would love to have Dad here with us," she said softly, "but I wouldn't want to miss you either. Dad surely watches over us right now."

Clarisse's arms came around her only grandchild and held her closer to herself, inhaling her scent, memorising everything – from the tiny swirl of hair at the back of Mia's head, so like her father's, straining against the pins, to Mia's unique fragrance, a faint scent of ink, coffee and her shampoo. Philippe had always smelled of ink and coffee as well, due to writing in his diary every spare moment and not quiet sharing his mother's taste for tea.

Carefully separating from Mia, Clarisse smiled at her, tugging a lock back behind her ear. "I'm sure he is, Mia. He loved you very much, regretting that he couldn't watch you grow up. You make him proud today ... and every day of your life."

"Do I make you proud?" Mia asked shyly. "I didn't disappoint you?"

"Oh, Mia, no!" Clarisse drew Mia back into a tight embrace. "Mia, no ... whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, I didn't marry Andrew, I fell in love with Nicholas ... and I ... I had Mabrey released." She felt her grandmother go stiff at the last news and knew her gut feeling had been right. Her grandma was shocked, disappointed, and angry.

Clarisse pushed away from Mia, but still held her by the shoulders. She knew about the ancient custom – yet another – knew why Mia had done it – for Nicholas – and she had heard the talk coming from Mabrey's cronies. She wondered if someone had forced Mia's hand in this, but couldn't think of who it would have been. Sebastian Motaz was a royalist through and through, devoted to the Renaldi family, and Nicholas had seemed truly disgusted by his uncle's schemes, after getting to know Mia.

"Mia, dear, it is an old custom and Mabrey's 'crimes' are ... less significant than some of the others'," she said slowly, watching Mia's face intently. She had noticed the dread in those beautiful brown orbs, and couldn't scold Mia. Besides what she had said was the truth. Mabrey's insults were no outright coup or anything comparative to that, so it was only logical to let him out of jail ... in the hopes that he had learned his lesson and cooled his temper. "I am still proud of you. It took a strong woman to oppose that law and a singularly male Parliament. You were braver than I had been. And falling in love with Nicholas is something I could never blame you for." She smiled radiantly at Mia. "I certainly didn't plan to fall in love with another man after your grandfather died ... and now look at me, happily married to my former Head of Security."

Mia returned Clarisse's smile with a radiant one of her own. Leaning her head on her shoulder, Mia breathed deeply and slowly, calming down again. "Thank you, Grandma."

The soft sound of someone clearing her throat was heard and both women turned to see Charlotte standing in the doorway. "My apologies, but it is time to resume your places."

oOoOoOo

Clarisse's eyes were riveted on Mia, standing across from her on the other side of the stairs. She had become a confident, beautiful woman – she couldn't be further away from the scrawny teenager who wanted to be invisible. Pride and sadness washed over Clarisse.

Mia had been right; her father should be sitting on the Throne, giving this remarkable woman more time to experience life, maybe find love and make up her mind about what kind of queen she wanted to be. It pained Clarisse to see Mia don the Hermine cloak of her ancestors, instead of feeling relief washing over her at seeing the Renaldi line continued. Philippe had been ready to assume the Throne, had been ready to be married a second time. All these sacrifices he had made were for nothing in the end. It wasn't fair! Neither was that Mia was forced to give up her youth, her innocence for the greater good of her country.

The damage was done. Mia had made her choice ... like her father had ... like Clarisse had. For her, the Queen herself, the coronation was not about celebration, it was about dedication to her country, to her dynasty ... to her family.

Blinking away tears, Clarisse finally realized what was wrong with the picture in front of her. She wasn't seeing Mia as she stood there. She was seeing herself – unprepared and frightened. Mia was anything but. Where Clarisse had been uncertain of her future, Mia was calm and secure of her worth. Mia knew exactly what her job entailed, what was expected of her. Clarisse had only known that she had to produce heirs and both Rupert and his staff had left her to find her new role on her own. She had struggled to understand the antiquated laws and customs, but had crinched inwardly. Mia did not accept them. Openly she stood up for her rights as a young, intelligent, and independent woman.

Yes, Nicholas had been right; Queen Amelia would lead Genovia into the 21st century.

Mia was amazed at how beautiful and radiant her grandmother looked ever since her wedding. Today was no exception, but Mia had to smile upon seeing the slight tremble in her grandmother's hands, smoothing over her golden dress and fiddling with her overcoat. So she wasn't the only one who was nervous about today. 'Ok ... Ok Mia, this is it ... Deep breaths now, deep breaths,' she thought to herself.

Then it was time. Mia saw Charlotte speak into her headset and how her grandmother nodded encouragingly at her. One more deep breath and Mia stepped forward, fixing her eyes to the blue orbs of her grandma. A smile crept into both women's faces. They both had worked so hard till they had reached this moment now. It was here at last and Mia felt the panic fall from her shoulders. As long as Clarisse was with her, she would be fine.

Both women descended the stairs gracefully. Mia prayed every step she took that she wouldn't slip and tumble down the stair. How dignified would that be! She envied her grandmother's security in what she did. 'I hope that one day I will be like her,' she thought admiringly.

As they both reached the bottom of the stair simultaneously – as had been timed perfectly and rehearsed endlessly, both heaved a sigh. Mia couldn't help but think about the night before; the night of the Act of Anointing. She had never been raised as overly religious – truth be told, she hadn't gone to church until she came to Genovia and her grandmother had insisted on Mia joining her. She had come to realize that her grandmother was deeply religious, drawing strength and comfort from her prayers. Mia suspected that it was part of what had pulled Clarisse through after the deaths of her husband and then her son.

Until yesterday Mia had feigned religiousness, going to Sunday messes with her grandmother. It wasn't that she didn't believe in God, but she thought the institution church and what it represented ridiculous.

Last night she had felt God in the room with herself ... and had finally understood her grandmother.

The Act of Anointing had been a simple one. The Archbishop had gone over every step with her beforehand. He had explained that Mia was the heir of the Renaldi blood line – that gave her legitimacy to claim the Throne. This Act was the moment she became Queen by God's will, divine right.

Mia had been led to the chapel of the palace in a long, white, simple and unadorned dress. The Archbishop had then asked her to kneel and pray with him. After she had thus purified her soul, she had sat down on the throne for the first time. When she had first come to Genovia, she had been too overwhelmed still about being a princess so that she had done little else besides staring open-mouthed at everything. Later this chair had held too much meaning for her to just plop into it. Her grandma had always sat down onto it gracefully – very carefully and deliberate indeed, accepting the heavy burden of her role symbolised so magnificently by this chair.

Now Mia would accept this burden, setting her beloved grandmother free to lead a life away from the public. She had to smile at that. Megan would surely make life interesting for Joe and Clarisse. Speaking of that little girl; she had said nearly the same thing this morning that the Archbishop had said that night.

"You are prepared to become our Queen by divine right to lead us with God's help into a prosperous and peaceful future," he had told her solemnly. Mia had sworn in her heart that she would never disappoint her people. He had then proceeded to make the sign of the cross on each of her hands, on her breast, and on her head.

"So be thou anointed, blessed and consecrated Queen over the People, whom the Lord thy God hath given thee to rule and govern."

Goosebumps had risen all over Mia's arms at that. It was as though two arms had wrapped around her. She hadn't been sure if they were God's or her father's or even the imagined hug of her grandmother.

Now the Archbishop's words, intoned in a grave, booming voice brought her back to the present, "Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Genovia according to the statures in Parliament agreed and the respective laws and custom of the same. Will you in your power cause law and justice in mercy to be executed in all judgements?" She saw out of the corner of her eye how the Archbishop gently raised the crown from her grandmother's head, held her up for everyone to see and then slowly turned to her. As he carefully placed it on her head, Mia was again struck by the weight of it. The crown was heavy – five pounds – and its weight was of significance, symbolising, according to the Archbishop, the burden of the demands that would be made upon her to her life's end. For so long now her grandmother had shouldered this burden, but now that it was taken from her, Clarisse seemed years younger and her smile was more brilliant than ever. Mia knew in her heart that it was all worth it, just by seeing the happy expression on her grandmother's face. Looking around into her grandmother's blue orbs, she said calmly and clearly.

"I solemnly promise so to do."

oOoOoOo

Arthur Mabrey stood in the very shadows of the huge pillars supporting the ceiling of the great hall, behind the Parliamentarians. He still had friends and they had seen to it that he wouldn't miss this moment.

From his vantage point he observed Elizondo stepping up to the Queen ... now Dowager Queen. The man actually dared to wrap his arm around her waist and draw her closer to him. Such behaviour in people their age and in public was despicable. Elizondo was just rubbing his nose in the fact that he got the girl. An angry growl escaped Mabrey's lips unchecked and his eyes narrowed. Suddenly he noticed a young girl standing rather shyly behind Elizondo.

As Queen Amelia stood from the Throne and walked through the hall for her first appearance on the balcony as Queen, all eyes followed her ... all eyes except Mabrey's. His focus was trained on the youngster as she stepped forward and craned her neck a little to follow Amelia's progress. He also observed how Elizondo placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her forward so that she was standing slightly in front of him and Clarisse. Then Clarisse bend forward and whispered something into the girl's ear. The girl looked back and up at the older woman, her lips stretching into a wide smile. Clarisse reached out and stroked her cheek, letting it rest there for a moment.

Arthur Mabrey's eyes went wide. The girl had brown hair, fair skin and quite a few similarities from both adults – more from the man, but still. A horrible sneer appeared on his own face – the first since his arrest. Quickly he reached into the pocket of his jacket and drew a camera.

oOoOoOo

Charlotte's eyes bugged out as she read the headline of today's newspaper. It was a close call not to spit out her mouthful of tea.

"Oh dear," she muttered at last, after swallowing with difficulty. Her hands trembled, crumpling the paper. She closed her eyes, praying that she was just imagining things. When she opened them again, though, the same headline sprang out and the same photograph stared back at her.

With a tremendous effort she got up from her seat at the kitchen counter, in pain of appearing calm, and handed her cup to the cook. She had to see Joseph. He would know what to do in this situation – after all it concerned him. Then she stopped in her tracks, though, he would be on his way to the airport ... What time was it? Checking her wristwatch frantically, Charlotte realized that Joe would still be in the driveway. If she hurried, she could reach him in time.

Racing through the highly polished and waxed corridors of the Genovian palace in heels was not the brightest idea Charlotte figured after nearly breaking her neck half way down the stairs. She had made it though. She could see the car still in the driveway, ready to drive the happy couple off to their honeymoon. As she descended the outer stairs, the car actually started driving.

"No, stop," she cried ... and was immediately hushed but Queen Amelia.

"Will you zip it!" the young woman chided. "It took me all morning to convince grandma that yes I was fine and yes I would run Genovia into the ground in the one week she will be away. Let her have this vacation. Whatever it is I'm sure I can handle it. After all I'm Queen now," she said with decision.

Charlotte wordlessly handed her the newspaper and watched Mia's face change as she read.

"OH MY GOD!"


	19. Confessions

A./N.: Hey guys. I'm still alive even though this update took for ever. Maybe some of you recognize the first flashback in this chapter and you would be right. It's based on real events as a mentally-unstable man broke into Buckingham Palace and threatened the Queen on 9 July 1982 (which incidentally is in 4 days, but I decided not to let you wait any longer).

So have fun reading and pretty please leave lots of reviews; they are my motivation to keep going.

Next chapter will reveal the article's content had what waves it's going to stir up.

19. Confessions

Mia's eyes were glued to the front page of the newspaper – a newspaper, she might add, which usually didn't print rubbish and cruel rumours. Yet the headline of the lead article didn't change. It still read:

'Lewd affair at Palace now legal'

Charlotte stood anxiously next to her and awaited with baited breath Mia's reaction. The problem was Mia had absolutely no idea how to react. Her first notion had been to laugh the whole ridiculous affair off and tease her grandmother with it. Then she had spotted the newspaper's name and knew this was serious. In truth Mia was still nervous about the press and she sure had her share of bad publicity. Elsie seemed to feed on Mia's mishaps. It was no wonder to Charlotte that this Harpy of a woman had pounced on these malicious rumours and made them sound true. Now the young Queen stood before her first crisis and neither she nor her aide could think of a way to avoid bad publicity. If they ignored the article, other, less prestigious papers would follow its lead. And if they did comment on the article, it wouldn't matter in what form they did it because they all would think that some part was true. Mia sighed; she wished her grandmother was here …

"No word of that to Grandma or Joe. Understood, Charlotte?" she growled out. She would not contact her Grandma on her honeymoon. After all she deserved some time alone to enjoy herself and get used to being a wife again. And young Megan was with them … that would be interruption enough.

oOoOoOo

Clarisse and Joseph sat quietly on the backseat of their limousine while Megan sat up front with their bodyguard Grant. She was happily chatting away that she never had been to France before, only ever seeing Inverness where she had been born. Clarisse listened surreptitiously to the girl's story and tried to picture her life. Slowly, bit by bit, she understood Megan's life to have been very dreary indeed before she had met her father. Livvy hadn't regarded outdoor activities or hobbies as important or desirable. Respectively her daughter only knew her home, school and church. She had not made any friends to speak of, and the only real one had moved out of town years ago, and Livvy hadn't allowed Megan to take the bus or driven her to her friend.

For a moment Megan was quiet and Clarisse felt her heart constrict in sympathy, but then a smile broke out on Megan's face. "Now I have a friend and she said that she'll always be and take good care of me and always give me a sympathetic ear and two arms to lean into." Megan's smile was infectious and the three other occupants in the car could feel their own smiles blossoming.

"And who is that, cutie?" Grant asked good-naturedly; he had six younger sisters and knew how to handle teenaged girls … it had always worked with Princess Mia when he had been her bodyguard in San Francisco.

Megan looked up in surprised confusion and explained, in a painstakingly patient tone of voice, "Well Mia obviously. She said I was too young for her to be comfortable calling me 'Aunt', then she said I could be her friend instead and keep her grounded. Lily grinned at me and said 'Fat chance of her floating away with her royal attitudes with me 'round'. They are both my friends."

Clarisse's hand subconsciously gripped Joseph's and her eyes flowed over with gratitude for her granddaughter's thoughtfulness and big heart. Joseph leaned over a bit and whispered in her ear, "Remind me to thank Mia for that." His voice was husky with emotions and his eyes were as moist as his wife's. His free hand came to rest on her thigh and drew her close to him, his nose buried in the crook of her neck, his mouth tenderly nibbling her throat. "And remind me to thank you for accepting Megan and not annulling our marriage on the spot when you found out."

Clarisse could feel her blood thrumming through her veins and hear her heart drumming loudly. Instinctively she turned her head to the side, giving Joseph more access to her sensitive flesh. This man could make her forget the others in the car or propriety. He easily turned her into a … a wanton hussy. Just when she was about to carefully … and regretfully … withdraw and assume a proper position, she felt Joseph's grip tighten around her thigh. His soft brown eyes seemed to beseech her to stay close to him. Clarisse saw insecurity in his eyes and understood for the first time that Joseph might still believe that all this was a dream and he would wake up from it if he let go of her. With a tender smile gracing her lips, she threw caution to the wind and scooted even closer to Joseph, putting one of her hands to his cheek and caressing it. Joseph's eyes darkened slightly with love and a good bit of desire, his hand moved over her leg and he let it rest on her waist. Again Clarisse's heartbeat accelerated significantly. Peeking carefully around to the front, Clarisse saw Grant and Megan in companionable chatter. Quickly she looked back at Joseph and dropped a chaste kiss onto his lips, then she took his hand and just held it in hers.

"Hey Dad!" Megan's voice floated over to the lovebirds on the backseat. She had flipped over on her seat so she was now on her knees and looking over the back of her seat.

"Megan!" Joe's reprimand was instantaneous … and for a moment Clarisse was surprised at how fatherly he sounded … even though she should have known better from when her sons had been young.

Megan instantly dropped back into her seat, with a worried expression in her eyes. She had upset her father and now he was mad at her. Suddenly she felt a large hand on her shoulder and heard her father's deep voice in her ear.

"Don't scare me like you did just now," he said softly, then added jokingly, "I'm an old man and could have a heart attack."

Megan shot him a tentative grin and relaxed under his hand. "I wanted to know if you have ever been at Bellevue?" she asked then.

"As a matter of fact I have." Joe grinned and decidedly ignored his wife's coughing (trying unsuccessfully to play over her laughter).

Now not only Megan seemed to be interested, but Joe could also see Grant raise an eyebrow at his former boss and cast a quick glance into the rear mirror. Megan's eyes darted to and fro between her father and her step-mother – and, not for the first time, she decided that she didn't want to know anymore. Joe, though, made the decision to let Megan in on his secret. He had kept them for far too long. He prayed that Clarisse would come to the same decision and have a long talk with Mia but it wasn't his place to reveal her secrets to her granddaughter.

"30 years ago. 5 years into my service to the Crown. Clarisse visited her parents at the time and I had been assigned to assist her personal bodyguard in protecting her on that trip." Joe's face was serious and he could feel Clarisse stiffen next to him. She had not thought back to that fateful trip but rather to the two other times they had been there while her parents were alive and the one after her first visit with Mia. Those had been infinitely more pleasant, but were also infinitely more private. After all they were the stolen moments of their first kiss … their confession of love … 'Enough, Clarisse Mignonette, concentrate on his story', she chided herself.

Megan had caught on to the change in atmosphere, and so had Grant. He eyed his former boss surreptiously in the rear mirror. All the security personnel had heard the tale of how one Joseph Elizondo had become the Queen's Head of Security.

oOoOoOo

_In July 1972, an intruder, a thirty-one-year old schizophrenic named Michel Fabergé found his way into Bellevue Chalet and disturbed Queen Clarisse, alone, asleep in her bed. This alarming incident prompted a double dose of outrage from the tabloids: why was the Palace security so lamentable and where was the Queen's HOS? Why was he not on hand to come to his sovereign's rescue? Indeed, the 'revelation' that a lunatic could wander off the street into the Sovereign's bedroom without let or hindrance was shocking to the whole country, shaking the very foundation of their belief in the Royal Family. Her Majesty, who, at the time, handled the intrusion with commendable calm, was nevertheless shaken._

_Mrs Kutaway, then the Queen's personal maid, later her chief housekeeper, told Elsie Kentworthy, "At the Palace that year – after that man got into her bedroom – Queen Clarisse began snapping at King Rupert, may he rest in peace. She was really quite snappy with him. Which was unusual for her. Not for him, of course. He is always been a bit snappy. But the man getting into her room was horrid." _

_It was._

_The man had a broken glass ashtray in his hand and was bleeding from several cuts in his wrists and on his hands, presumably from breaking one of the lower floor's windows. The intrusion occurred at around 7:15 am on 6th July 1972. _

_Clarisse pressed the alarm button by her bed, but her overnight police guard had gone off duty at 6 am and her footman was not yet on duty. The intruder simply wandered in, wholly unhindered, drew the curtains and sat on the bed next to Clarisse. He wanted to share his troubles with Her Majesty. _

_ "Bonjour, madame," he had greeted her cordially before introducing himself._

_Clarisse had been shocked into immobility, her heart in her throat and praying that this man wouldn't hurt her. She didn't know what had happened to her guard outside her room, she had no way of knowing that the blood on his hands was his and not that of his victims. Trembling, but valiantly trying to suppress it in front of the intruder, she asked quietly, "How may I help you?"_

_The man had laughed at her and then preceded to tell her how he had lost his job, how his wife had left him because of that and how he had sought to find comfort in alcohol. All throughout his monologue Clarisse pressed the hidden alarm button but no one came. _

_Eventually, when he asked for a cigarette, she managed to manoeuvre him out of the bedroom and the alarm was raised. _

_ "I'm terribly sorry, but I simply can't tolerate smoke. Would you possibly be so kind as to smoke outside? I'm quite sure there is an ashtray in the next room ... since yours is broken and not serviceable."_

_Reluctantly Fabergé agreed. Outside the door Clarisse frantically thought of a possible way out. Could she outrun him down the corridor? Where would she go from there? _

_Just as she was about to break into a run and just hope for the best, she saw a flash of black and heard a chocking sound followed by a heavy grunt and a growled command; "Move one inch and I'll kill you, cretin!"_

_Clarisse whirled around and saw Joseph holding her assailant in a stranglehold. As she saw that Monsieur Fabergé raised his hand with the broken ashtray and aimed the sharp edges of it at Joseph's face, she gave a piercing shriek and lost her composure for the first time during this whole episode. With a cry of despair escaping her lips, she wanted to throw herself onto his arm, but Joseph was faster. His hand shot upwards from where it had rested around the man's middle to grab his wrist and twist it until he dropped the ashtray._

_ "Your Majesty, go to your parents' rooms and tell security there that I need their help here. Go!" _

_Clarisse briefly locked eyes with Joe, then she nodded and hastened down the corridor on wobbly legs._

_Later she was informed that the intruder had told the police he had planned to cut his wrists in front of her. Nothing of that mattered though, for she clung to Joseph's arm, feeling his strength and only hearing his promise to always protect her._

_The incident prompted a much-needed review of Palace security, which was, in the words of the intruder himself, "diabolical". The Head of Security at the time was Wilburn Mahony. He offered his resignation. It was accepted. Joseph Elizondo took over the position as Head of Security, as a reward and acknowledgement of what he had done for the Royal Family. _

oOoOoOo

For a long time it was silent in the car. Clarisse clung to Joseph's hand and heroically suppressed her trembling. The mere memories of those events were frightening. She had felt so abandoned and at the intruder's mercy.

Joseph remembered with dread how his heart had stopped seeing Her Majesty come out of her bedroom with a total stranger, holding her arm tightly and a broken ashtray like a weapon. For a few moments, even as he was already reacting, he had heard his own voice telling His Majesty that he had let Her Majesty be killed on his watch.

"Have you risked your life often, Dad?" Megan's voice was small and frightened. For the first time she realized that her father's job entailed danger and potential death, not just being a dashing knight in shining armour.

Joe felt Clarisse gripping his hand more tightly and saw her lips move soundlessly. He couldn't make out what she said but he saw relief in her eyes and could imagine that she was thankful and glad that he had retired from his active duties. To be frank, so was he. Not just because of his beautiful wife, but also because of his daughter. It had been no problem to live with the drawbacks of his job when he had had no one to care for except himself … and the benefits of seeing the woman he loved every day had more than made up for them. He had been like Lionel; he would have gladly taken a bullet for Her Majesty.

Now that Clarisse was his wife and not his employer anymore, she would fear for his life even more … and it had been hard for her when they had been merely friends with something indefinable more. She was, and always had been, his first priority and the reason for putting his life in the line of fire in order to protect hers. He had wanted to serve her and this had seemed like the only way. Now, as a married man, his first priority had changed. Her safety was still very important to him, but now he would strive to stay alive for her and not put her through the same grief again as she had experienced with Rupert and Philippe.

And for Megan! He absolutely had to stay alive for her. She had no one else on earth except him … as little as this was. He would try to be the best father he could positively become.

It was very lucky that Clarisse was by his side. She was a mother and both Pierre and Philippe had been and still were very close to her. Pierre loved his mother more fiercely than anything else, Genovia and the church included. True, he had abdicated in favour for the church, but it had been a hard decision and he had only made it after the strong support of both his younger brother and his mother. After Philippe's death he had tried to comfort his mother, giving her the same speech the Archbishop had. Neither man seemed to fully comprehend a mother's grief for her baby. She had nearly lost herself in her grief.

Philippe had been undeniably Clarisse's favourite. He was the son who had inherited most of her own qualities and had always known how to make her feel better. Even despite the age difference and the mother-son relationship, he had been her rock in the rough sea before she came to rely more on Joseph … well, before she allowed herself to rely on him. Philippe had known right from the beginning that more than friendship connected his mother and her bodyguard.

Joe had lost count of the times he had had the distinct of being observed when interacting with Queen Clarisse outside the public glare and the times he had had to cover up his obvious admiration for her when he caught her son's gaze.

Looking up now, and slowly coming out of his thoughts, he caught Megan's knowing gaze. It wasn't fixed on him, though. Her eyes bore into Clarisse's soft blue orbs. Joe knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that both women had come to an understanding. Megan's smile bloomed again, accenting her natural beauty and letting him forget her unhappy childhood so far. He vowed that from now on her life would only know laughter.

"He'll be fine – between the three of us," Megan said very quietly and Clarisse simply nodded. She didn't doubt the girl's serenity or the truth of her words. As young as she was, she still had an air of authority and serenity surrounding her.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later Megan was excitedly bouncing up and down in her seat … as much as her seat belt would allow. They were approaching the driveway of Castel 'Bellevue'. Clarisse, too, could hardly contain her glee at seeing her childhood home again. So many happy memories were connected with it … memories of her sons and their laughter, memories of her budding love for Joseph. It was here she had felt free enough to allow herself to be Clarisse, not Queen Clarisse. The gardens around the large estate were well-kept and the lovely roses were in full bloom. Clarisse's love for flowers was a trait she had shared with her own grandmother. The gardeners had often chuckled, seeing the old lady hold the hand of her small granddaughter, explaining how to tend to her precious garden and naming all the flowers in English, French, and Latin. This was one of the most treasured memories Clarisse had of this place.

Now she looked forward to become a family once more in the very place where she had found out she was pregnant some 40-odd years ago. Suddenly it struck her, with a clarity she hadn't encountered yet, that she really was becoming a mother again. Involuntarily her eyes fell on Megan and for the first time since meeting her Clarisse really saw the girl. She noticed more than ever the similarities between Megan and Joe, but now she also noticed the softness in the girl's eyes that she knew reflected her own. Clarisse had already noticed the solemnity and serenity in Megan before. How many high-ranking international politicians had told her they could see it in her? Clarisse couldn't remember, but they had been many. The wild brown curls reminded her so of Mia before her hair had been tamed into more moderate waves.

Yes, Megan would fit very well into their small but growing family. She and Joseph would get their rightful places. Finally.

Clarisse smiled to herself for a moment, remembering the Archbishop's words. On her wedding day she had been mortified to think they had been this obvious, but now she could shrug it off and think he had just put into words the national feeling of inevitability. The ladies Lovat and Jérôme had voiced similar sentiments. They had noticed the growing closeness between their Queen and her Head of Security. Clarisse, though, had thought this was because they were her ladies-in-waiting and thus closer to her than most of her other employees and all of Genovia.

"Oh gosh, this is so beautiful! Look, dad, it's so big! And all those flowers. WOW," Megan gushed excitedly, hardly able to sit still and trying to take it all in.

Joseph chuckled warmly. He leaned forward and placed a large hand on Megan's slender shoulder. His eyes shone brightly. Clarisse easily guessed that Joseph now also allowed the happy memories of this place to come back to him. She could see it in his smile as his eyes moved in the direction of the pool.

"And you haven't even seen it all," he mumbled more to himself than to Megan.

The gaze he bestowed on Clarisse at that comment, had her blushing furiously and started a tingling in her lower vicinity. A hardly contained fire smoldered in the depths of his eyes. They roamed over her body, undressing her, lingering on her throat, chest, and her legs, demurely tucked under her and crossed at the ankle. Clarisse couldn't guess what he was thinking. They never had made love in Bellevue and she had always dressed with the same care as at the Palace … or had she? Joseph's gaze had first gone to the pool, then he had met her eyes. Now Clarisse could remember teaching her sons how to swim, how Philippe had discovered that water really was his element, how he had told her at the pool that he wanted to be a marine. With a new flush creeping up her cheeks, she also remembered the skimpy bikinis she had used to wear. Joseph saw understanding enter Clarisse's eyes. He nodded then leaned forward until his mouth was close to her ear and whispered, "I wouldn't mind at all seeing you in a bikini again … you know, for old times' sake. I fell for you even more seeing you in one."

oOoOoOo

_It was a hot summer's day and everybody at Castel Bellevue was either trying to stay cool or braving the hot glare of the sun in order to fulfil one's duty. Joe was one who braved the sun. As a security guard he was used to put his charge's safety first, over any discomfort he might feel doing his duty. His boss was inside the Castel, guarding Queen Clarisse and the two Princes._

_Carefully he let his eyes scan his surroundings, noticing every detail and everything that seemed odd or out of place. Suddenly he heard squealing and saw the Princes running out onto the sunny terrace. Pierre was dressed for swimming with the floating aids strapped to his arms and Philippe toddled after his older brother, clutching a floating tire. His boss and the Queen were leisurely following in the boys' wake. Joe noticed that Queen Clarisse was more relaxed and carefree here, away from the Palace and all her duties. She also seemed to have bloomed in the presence of her parents. Idly Joe wondered if it had anything to do with the absence of King Rupert. The royal couple never argued in public, they never even had a disagreement in front of their servants, but Joe had seen the barely disguised despise in the King's eyes when he looked at the Queen at times, and he had heard that the maids sometimes had trouble to blend out the red around her eyes with make-up. Here she was positively glowing. So were the boys; running around, laughing, and playing like normal children._

_Joe could hear the faint noises of their conversation and the laughter of the Princes, but almost immediately he trained his eyes back on the surrounding grounds. It would not do to slack on his job, for it would endanger the royal family._

_For the rest of the afternoon all was harmonious; the boys splashed happily in the shallow part of the pool while Queen Clarisse dangled her legs in the water and laughed at her sons' antics. Pierre practiced his swimming skills and Philippe doggy-paddled around his mother's legs, complaining that nobody showed him how to swim properly. Together both boys harassed their mother into taking a dive and show them how it was done. Laughingly she stood up and untied the knot of the paisley cloth wrapped around her slim waist. _

_ "Alright, boys, get out of my way then," she laughed, carelessly tossing her wrap on a beach chair behind her. _

_Joe's burning gaze was instantly drawn to her long beautiful legs. He could see the toned muscles in her calves flex, from his own experience he knew that those were the result of endless hours and days running from one appointment to another in high heels and the ballroom dancing required of her during galas. His eyes travelled up her legs to her slim torso and rather impressive cleavage, moderately covered by her bathing suit. She was perfect in Joe's eyes. Naturally he would never say something or ever do something to let her know he desired her. After all Clarisse was a married woman and his Queen … it would be treason, not just adultery._

_ "You're still a Spanish citizen, my friend," a small voice in his mind persisted. "Your Queen is Sophia of Spain, not Clarisse of Genovia."_

_A jolt went through him as realization hit him … not that it made a whole lot of difference. Then a second jolt shook through his body but with a completely opposite feeling connected. He wanted to be Clarisse's subject! Somehow he guessed it would be the closest he could be to her … in any event he didn't want any barriers between them, and his nationality felt like one right now._

_ "No barriers? You naughty boy!" Somehow his internal voice had acquired the tone and cadence of his mother's voice. A furious blush covered his face and he looked away hastily. His reprieve was only short-lived, though._

_Hearing squeals and laughter behind him, he turned back around to see Clarisse picking up Pierre and letting him fly like an airplane before tossing him carefully back into the water. Philippe laughed loudly as his brother surfaced again and now began to beg his mother to throw him too. Clarisse chuckled but told him 'no'. _

_Joseph's eyes were riveted on his Queen again. He observed how she heaved her body out of the pool, water running down over her torso. His focus zeroed in on a droplet of water, shining like a diamond in the glittering sunlight, that clung seductively to her collarbone. All other things disappeared from his conscious thinking processes, he was only seeing Clarisse clearly outlined … His gaze followed the droplet's slow, seductive progress from her collarbone over the exposed flesh of her chest until it disappeared in the valley between her breasts and was then soaked up by the fabric of her bikini top._

_Subconsciously he licked his lips, dreaming of being able to taste her and suck the tiny drops off her skin._

oOoOoOo

His comment had the desired effect of making her blush again. It was a soft blush and a speculative glint was in her eyes. Joe felt his groin tighten, just watching her make a decision. Subconsciously her hand tucked at the lapel of her suit jacket, drawing Joseph's hungry gaze back to her tempting cleavage. His own hand came up and over hers. With a deep, loving gaze he locked eyes with his wife before raising her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss onto the back of it.

"There is a pool out back," Grant told Megan and chuckled as the young girl squealed.

Joe looked up just then, reluctantly turning away from his oh so alluring wife lest he ravish her on the spot and damn propriety, and saw the half-delighted and half-scared look in his daughter's eyes. "What is it, Megan?" he asked, smiling encouragingly.

"I don't know how to swim … but it would be great to cool off in the pool," she admitted shyly, her hair falling into her face yet again and hiding her.

Clarisse felt her chance for her first motherly gesture/feat. She leaned forward, bracing her hand upon her husband's knee, and addressed Megan. "Well, that can be helped easily. I taught my sons, so maybe I can teach you as well … if you want."

The mental images her sweet, innocent comment evoked in Joe led to a slight tenting of his trousers. "I like your thinking," he growled into her ear, then softly nibbled it, clearly intending to leave her as flustered as he was. Megan didn't seem to notice as she sent a dazzling smile back at her father and his wife.

A few minutes later the limousine pulled up at the entrance to the Chalet where the housekeeper and butler stood at the door, ready to welcome their landlady home. Clarisse had been an only child and had inherited the estate after her father's death in 1986. The elderly housekeeper was beaming happily at the car. She had always admired Mademoiselle Clarisse for her inner strength and resolve. They had grown up together, Madame Clementseau had only been four years older and often had had to hold the lively Clarisse back from making too much mischief. Their childhood hadn't always been filled with love, laughter and joy, but together the two girls had managed to escape their stations and problems, forging a strong friendship. Now her friend was home again – and happier than ever.

As Joe got out of the car and walked around to Clarisse's door, he noticed all the happy faces and broad smiles around him. He was gratified by it. Here, more than in the Palace or San Francisco, had their romance budded and blossomed.


	20. Betrayal

20. Betrayal

Being betrayed is one thing. Getting the only hope betrayed that was left, is quite another.

"Bienvenue, monsieur," the butler greeted Joseph, bowing slightly to show his respect.

"Bonjour, Baptist," Joseph replied, not sure if he liked being addressed as a royal, but also knowing that from now on it would be the norm. These people, though, had been his friends. They had laughed together down in the kitchen, had watched sports on TV, had gossiped about high society, had basically formed a community. It saddened him to see people suddenly treating him differently; especially Shades and Charlotte. Those two had always meant a lot to him, almost like children – despite his involvement in the princes' lives and despite Megan's sudden appearance and subsequent turning his life upside down.

Looking up the stairs to the beautiful chalet, Joe noticed that all employees had turned out, dressed in their finest, wearing broad smiles and bowing or curtsying to him.

"They respect you … always have." Clarisse's soft voice behind him startled him. He turned slightly and noticed both Clarisse and Megan standing next to him. Clarisse was smiling dreamily up at her childhood home, while Megan gawked from the mansion to the waiting servants. Up until now she had lived in a rather crammy, little apartment with her mother and then the nice but also small suite of her father at the Palace. For her this was an even more extreme change than for Joe. He was used to palaces and servants. For her it was all new.

Before he could fully shake off his stupor, Clarisse put an arm around Megan's thin shoulders and drew her a little closer to herself. She smiled at the young girl and inclined her head to indicate the people waiting for them. "There is someone I would like you to meet. She is a very good friend of mine … and I hope you will like her as well. If you need anything, just go straight to her and she will help you." Then Clarisse turned to Joe. "And I believe she would love to greet you finally as my husband. She was rooting for us from the beginning."

Joseph began to grin broadly. "I always knew that Justine had good taste," he teased Clarisse gently, slipping his arm loosely around her waist and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. He was not at all shy around these people and the idea of re-meeting them as Clarisse's husband filled him with pride and excitement; rather than with dread as had the meeting with Parliament. Now he confidently moved forward to clasp hands with Madame Clementseau.

"How wonderful to see you again, Monsieur Joseph!" she enthused genuinely. "I watched the wedding on télé and cheered when my dear friend finally followed her heart."

"I was cheering myself … well, after I came to terms with my luck that she finally agreed to take pity on me." Joseph glanced behind him towards Clarisse and Megan. Clarisse's eyes were cast down, while a faint blush adorned her cheeks, but a beautiful smile graced her lips. Megan stood close to her, grinning widely. Obviously she was quickly becoming comfortable with her new family. That made Joseph happy – even happier than his marriage, the fulfilment of his dreams, had made him already. This here was the culmination of his life. He had what he had always wanted; a family – maybe a little late in life and in a most unusual way, but better late than never.

Madame Clementseau pulled Joseph into a tight hug and slightly turned her head so her mouth was close to his ear. "Treat her well, my friend. She is like a younger sister to me," she whispered hoarsely. Joe felt a lump forming in his own throat at her admission. He nodded against her head, unable to speak a word.

Justine moved away from Joe then and went to her friend. Throwing decorum over board, she didn't curtsey or address her with her royal title. Instead she simply clasped Clarisse's shoulders and pressed a kiss to each cheek. Clarisse accepted this sign of closeness and familiarity, she even returned it.

"Justine, ma chérie, ça va?" she asked with a broad smile on her lips. For a moment both women were unable to speak further, overcome by their emotions. They hadn't seen each other in years since they both had been too busy with their respective lives. Clarisse with her hopes for Mia and running Genovia and Justine with her youngest grandchild's antics, who lived with her. Before they completely succumbed to the emotional turmoil within them, Justine noticed the young girl standing behind Clarisse, still agape at the splendor before her. She immediately took in the girl's resemblance to both her friends and sharply raised an eyebrow at Clarisse. With great interest and even a bit of shock, she saw a faint blush creep up into Clarisse's cheeks. Raising her eyebrow again, she fixed Clarisse with a sterner look. Justine was sure that Clarisse was not the mother of this child, and yet she saw the girl move closer to Clarisse and clasp her hand (clearly uncomfortable by all the stares she now attracted).

"Oh, may I introduce you to my stepdaughter. Megan, this is my oldest and dearest friend Justine Clementseau," Clarisse finally found her voice again. She tried to smile, but it faltered as she noticed Justine glance over to Joseph in a reproaching manner. It was clear that her friend disapproved.

"Megan? You are Joe's daughter?" Justine asked, needing the affirmation that she had indeed heard right.

Megan nodded hesitantly. Her head fell forward again hiding her face under her bangs. Justine's eyes softened as she observed the obviously cowed teenager and how Clarisse stepped a little in front of Megan, shielding her from the speculative glances of not only Justine herself but also those of the other members of the household.

"Then you are more than welcome here," Justine said with a friendly smile … only a moment later, though, she fixed Clarisse with a much sterner look and gave her to understand that she would badger her with questions later and find out the whole story.

oOoOoOo

As Megan found herself in her room, alone at last, she couldn't help but wonder over how much her life had changed since meeting her father for the first time. Grinning, she remembered how awkward they both had felt; Megan in particular couldn't meet Joe's eyes. What if she disappointed him like she had her mother? Quickly she had realized that Joe felt very much the same way. He had been afraid of her rejection of a father she had never seen before. He had taken a few days off to be able to spend real quality time with her and to get to know her properly. He had told her about his family – their family, he had emphasized, his job and Clarisse. At first he had haltingly told her of his admiration for this astounding woman until he had quietly confessed his love. He had never told anyone before that he and Clarisse loved each other, but he couldn't stop himself from confessing to his daughter. That more than any blood or DNA test had confirmed to him that Megan was his, for he never let his guard down that easily and quickly. When he had returned to Genovia in order to change his life so that Megan might fit into it, he had been full of hope that now his life was looking up, that now all his dreams might come true – those of a family – those of finally marrying the woman he loved.

"Hem, hem."

Megan turned around, slightly startled by the sudden intrusion, just to see her father leisurely leaning against the doorframe.

"Penny for your thoughts," he wanted to know, keeping his voice soft.

"I was just thinking over today's events," Megan admitted as softly. "I noticed all the employees turning out to greet you and Clarisse … well, I thought they did it only for Clarisse, but then I saw the way they looked at you. I mean they are happy for you."

Joseph nodded and moved further into the room. "Yes, they seem to accept our marriage. I'm glad they do, because this is Clarisse's home and she likes to spend time here. Bellevue was always a refuge for her and this is the place we acknowledged that we were in love with each other." Again Joseph couldn't help but confess to his daughter; then a thought hit him. Maybe he was trying to make up for their lost time with this reckless honesty. It was definitely worth pondering over – but not now. Megan had asked him a question.

"You really love her, don't you?"

"Yes." It was as simple as that.

"How did you know?" Megan asked curiously, studying her father's face intently.

Joseph smiled and stroked his beard a little while thinking. He then shrugged his shoulders and just plunged into the explanation, knowing that Megan probably couldn't yet understand the finer details but trusting that in time she would learn und hopefully experience the same.

"There came a moment when all I had to do was take a look at Clarisse and I knew how she felt. A glance into her blue eyes was enough to know what she was feeling or thinking. The tiniest, almost unnoticeable gesture would suffice to stop me in my tracks. Her hand on my arm became my undoing. That's when I knew that I loved her." He spoke reverently and with such love shining from his eyes that Megan instinctively cast her gaze down to the floor.

Clarisse stood in the door, unnoticed by neither Joseph nor Megan and watched the scene quietly. Joe's words struck a cord within her and reminded her of the words she had spoken to Mia, words that had made her realize that she had fallen in love with Joseph.

oOoOoOo

_ "Grandma!"_

_Clarisse cringed visibly as her granddaughter's voice reached her at ear-piercing level even before Mia came into view. Joe tried valiantly to hide his grin – but alas he failed miserably. This slip-up earned him a stern look from Clarisse._

_ "Huiii!"_

_Both adults looked up and Clarisse took a step back, shocked to see her granddaughter slide down the fireman's pole in the middle of the kitchen. Her mouth flew open and she nearly stepped on Joe's foot, before she recovered some sense of control and propriety. In her opinion Mia should act like a Princess at all times, but she had been overruled by Helen and Mia – and in private by Joseph – to allow the girl certain liberties here at home. At the moment she was reconsidering._

_Mia came to a halt in front of her and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Sorry, grandma, but I was in a hurry to see you." She looked up at the older woman from behind a curtain of hair. "I need to talk to you …"_

_Clarisse saw the hesitancy in Mia's very posture and sighed inwardly. It seemed they still hadn't found a level of comfort around each other. She suddenly felt a hand on the small of her back and a little shove in Mia's direction. Turning her head slightly she saw Joseph giving her an encouraging smile. She remembered his words clearly; "Perhaps as her grandmother you were too critical of your granddaughter." This was her chance to get to know her only grandchild on a deeper level._

_Nodding to Mia, she spoke reassuringly, "Of course, my dear. What is on your heart?"_

_ "Mhm … could we maybe go up to my … uhm, tower?" Mia asked nervously._

_Clarisse's heart did a funny little somersault in her chest. Helen had told her that only Lily was allowed up there. Now Mia invited her up … Oh dear! She would have to climb that stepladder … and in heels … but she would brave it for Mia!_

_ "Sure, why not," she smiled genuily, even though she heard Joseph's low chuckle behind her. He probably remembered the ladder since he had explored every nook and cranny of the house for security reasons. Under the cover of placing her coat and handbag on the bench, she did step on Joseph's foot, shooting him a sugar-sweet smile. Following Mia out of the room and up the stairs, she noticed Helen looking quizzically after them and also a bit worried. Worrying herself now, she wondered what was on Mia's mind and why she hadn't confided in her mother._

_When they entered Mia's room, Clarisse had to smile in spite of her worries. One wall was covered with a giant map of Genovia, plastered to it were research papers about economy, population, history, politics, flora and fauna. Various pictures of herself stared down on Clarisse from articles cut out of tabloids. In a daze she walked over and leafed through the layers of research until she came up with a bundle of pictures. They all showed Philippe. First with his parents, then with his brother, at his wedding, and finally with baby Mia in his arms._

_ "I found them in Mum's secret box. She gave them to me."_

_ "Oh," it was all Clarisse could vocalize. Seeing her son smile at her almost broke her heart again. It was so hard to come to terms with his death and she knew she would always feel his loss acutely._

_ "Do you think he loved Mum and me?" Mia asked quietly, her own voice breaking._

_Clarisse looked up and nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes, he did. He never looked at another woman the way he did at Helen, and he always talked about you, missing you terribly."_

_ "Uhm … good," Mia mumbled._

_ "Mia, were you doubting that?" Clarisse came over to her granddaughter and put her hand on the girl's shoulder._

_ "No … yeah … kinda," she mumbled, squirming under Clarisse's penetrating gaze. "I mean he left because of Genovia."_

_ "Mia, dear, please listen to me. What do you think love is? Trumpets calling, a choir of angles singing in the background – some fairy tale coming true?" Clarisse asked, with a hint of acidy in her voice. When she saw Mia's face fall and stepping back, away from her grandmother, Clarisse bit her tongue. Again she had been too harsh with her young grandchild. Mia was at the age to wonder about these things, to have romantic fantasies and dreams – she should have expected a question like that … then again, no, she shouldn't. Mia had pointed out before that Clarisse had been absent all of her life until recently and thus couldn't count as family. So why was she now asking Clarisse such a personal question and not her mother? Taking a deep breath, Clarisse calmed somewhat and took a seat on Mia's bed. When she spoke it was in a gentler voice. "Love isn't anything like that, Mia. Well, it is when you marry for love and then only for a short time until reality rears her head. Do you remember all the books I gave you?" At Mia's somewhat confused nod, she continued, "One was by Saint-Exupéry. In it he wrote _'Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking in the same direction.'_ A good marriage is when you understand your spouse without words, can communicate with him without speaking. When you can trust him to be behind you all the time, you have a successful marriage. One that is steady and true." _

_Mia's head was cocked to the side and she regarded her grandmother with great interest and attentiveness. Clarisse wasn't quite sure if she wanted to know what the imaginable girl thought, but was resigned that she would probably be told anyway. _

"_So it's a lot like what you have with Joe, isn't it?" The question was spoken quietly and without any hint of teasing or condescension. _

_Clarisse, though, felt as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs. Her mouth opened in protest, but no sound escaped her lips. To make matters worse, she felt the blood rising in her cheeks, turning them a faint hue of pink. She didn't know what to say … and she couldn't lie to Mia. But oh how she wished right now she could have had this sort of relationship with Rupert._

_ "I understand, Grandma, it's ok," Mia said quietly, locking eyes with Clarisse and showing the maturity Joseph had spoken of after the beach incident._

oOoOoOo

Meanwhile hushed voices were raised all over Genovia, speculating, asking, wondering … about the same thing. Was this true? Had the press really uncovered the true reason for recent events? Or was this all just another smear complain?

**Lewd affair at Palace now legal**

**This article will reveal new and exciting aspects of the royal wedding of Queen Clarisse to her former HOS Joseph Elizondo. According to our sources it was a shot gun wedding. The end of a scandal.**

**In the picture above the article you can see a lovely young girl standing in front of her parents, come to watch the coronation of Queen Amelia. We all will recognize the happy parents, but who is the girl? Due to sources who wished to remain anonymous her name is Megan Elizondo, allegedly the former HOS Joseph Elizondo's daughter who was born out of wedlock. Looking at the picture it is not very hard to guess who the mother-out-of-wedlock is.**

**The reserved and often distant Dowager Queen seems very comfortable and at ease with her husband's daughter. I believe the country will be able to agree that these facts cannot be over-looked. The calm that is portrayed in this picture leads us to believe that Megan's parents, are the new Mr. and Mrs Elizondo. **

**That being stated, this would create a more daunting problem for the press to pursue than just figuring out whom this young person belongs to: It would mean that the former Queen had partaken in lustful behavior that left her with an unwanted child. **

**Even these problems are not the only ones, though. If all of this is true, and there was an affair among the royal and her bodyguard, than that would question the new Queen's legitimation to the throne. **

**Most everyone is close-mouthed about this subject, but we will continue pressing for information. For now, I suppose, the former Queen, bodyguard, and their child are somewhere unknown to us for the Elizondos' honeymoon, but rest assured that after their return they will be asked to take a stand and explain themselves.**


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